


You’re a Mean One, Mr. Winchester

by Arianllyn



Series: Therapy [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 237
Words: 426,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianllyn/pseuds/Arianllyn
Summary: Sam finds out what Dean said to Cas, and finally makes Dean get therapy for his 'functional' alcoholism and anger management / abandonment issues.Immediately follows S15E03, but from there it's canon-divergent.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Therapy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814179
Comments: 2787
Kudos: 451





	1. So, What Else Is New?

After hearing the iron door clang shut behind him, for what he assumed would be the last time, Castiel stopped just outside the bunker, and leaned over to vomit in the bushes.

Cas climbed slowly into the cab of his pick-up truck and started the engine. He rested his head on the top of the steering wheel for a few seconds, waiting for his stomach to stop roiling, then realized it wasn’t going to stop. He sat back, threw the transmission into reverse, backed out of the driveway onto the dirt road, shifted into drive, and started off.

He got to the main road, and had to choose a direction – right or left? Did it matter? He had no destination in mind. He had nowhere to go. Right. He’d turn right. He’d had enough of making the wrong choices.

_Only right choices from now on._

A sob escaped and he only then realized that he was crying. He pulled over and parked along the side of the road. Less than a half-mile from the bunker, and he was already a mess. He sighed and mopped at his face with the sleeve of his trench coat.

Too many failed plans, too many mistakes, too many deaths. Too much guilt, too many excuses. Too much bitterness, and anger, and pain, and sorrow. Too many problems he’d been unable to fix. Too many problems he'd caused himself. There was just no point in looking back.

What he’d once believed was an irreversible and profound bond between them had been shattered. Eleven years. Friendship, camaraderie, brotherhood…love. Family. _It was over._

He pulled the truck back onto the road, turned right, and began to do what he’d told Dean he intended to: move on.

***

Dean took another swig from the bottle of Jack in his hand. He’d long since stopped bothering with a glass. What was the point of that? Took up too much time pouring that could be better spent just swilling it down. Not like he was gonna add water or ice or anything else to dilute the alcohol. He was drinking it straight; it might as well come straight from the bottle.

He wasn’t even close to drunk. Teensy bit buzzed, maybe, he’d grant you that. But drunk? Pfft. He could still stand up just fine.

Dean slumped into a chair. Okay, maybe his legs were a little wobbly.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the edge of the table. Oooh, that felt nice. Hard, but still, cool. He sat back, took another drink from the bottle in his left hand, then scrubbed his right hand through his hair and down over his face.

_Dammit._

The booze wasn’t blocking enough. Not anything, really.

_Mom's still dead._

He could keep blaming Jack, but now Jack was dead, too, and Cas had left his body in Hell when he’d killed Belphegor, the demon who’d been using Jack as a meat suit.

And now Cas was gone.

_Well, good riddance. Pesky angel. Always causing trouble._

He downed another good swig of whisky. And another. And another. And…oh.

_Bottle’s empty. How’d that happen?_

He set the empty bottle on the table, and pushed himself up from the chair to go get another one. And promptly tripped on his own shoe, but caught himself on the edge of the table.

“’s’ll good. I’m up,” Dean muttered. A bit unsteady, maybe, but he was up. He was ambulatory. Ha! There, one of Sammy’s SAT words. How drunk could he be, if he was still using SAT words correctly?

He moved slowly over to the liquor cabinet and surveyed the contents. Jim, or Jack?

_Maybe switch to Jim. Don’ wanna think about Jack anymore. Too sad. Too mad. Too bad._

He giggled at the rhyme in his head, picked up a bottle of Jim Beam, and headed back to his chair. Halfway there, he thought better of that, and changed direction.

_Bed. Bed would be good, here._

He could watch something on Netflix, lay down, get all comfy, and keep drinking, and that’d be better than sitting here by himself thinking about all the crap going on.

Like Cas, just picking up and leaving. “It’s time for me to be moving on.”

_Pfft. Whatever. Fine, just leave me behind. Everybody does eventually._

Okay, yeah, he had Sam, but…. Dammit. Not like he needed Cas.

_Damn angel’s more trouble’n he’s worth._

Half the time, they were riding around fixing shit that he’d broken. Like the Leviathans. That mess had been 100% Grade A Castiel shit. And yeah, okay, Cas had been instrumental in fixing it, but he damn well shoulda been, _he’d caused the problem_. Or the time Cas had worked with Metatron to cause all the angels to fall. And yeah, okay, Metadouche had manipulated Cas and lied to him…and stolen his grace…but still.

_Cas should’ve known better. 'S'all Cas' fault.  
_

Dean tried to take a drink, then realized he hadn’t yet opened the new bottle, and that he had been just standing in the hallway outside his room, holding up the wall, rather than going in and lying down. So he decided to remedy that, and moved towards his door, then tripped in the doorway. He tried to catch himself on the desk, but missed, and down he went.

_Shit. At least I didn’t break the bottle._

He decided to just sit on the floor until he got the whisky open, and busily started stripping off the seal. Bottle finally open, he downed a good bit, then coughed a little. He leaned against the desk, and briefly considered moving to the bed, but getting up just seemed like too much effort. He sighed and took another swig.

_Damn angel._

***

On his way to the bathroom, Sam passed Dean’s room, and noticed the door was open and the light on. He thought it was a bit late for Dean to still be up – he’d been asleep for hours – but knew Dean had insomnia sometimes, so he didn’t think too much of it.

Coming back from the bathroom, however, he glanced in from a different angle, and saw Dean passed out on the floor, next to an almost empty whisky bottle. He huffed.

_Of course, Dean’s drunk. 'Functional' alcoholic, my ass._

He went in, picked Dean up off the floor with the ease of long practice, laid him out on the bed, and covered him with a blanket.

He briefly wondered where Cas was, and why the angel hadn’t managed to talk Dean into sleeping earlier, rather than drinking quite so much, then shrugged.

_At least Cas’ll be able to fix the hangover for him in the morning._

Sam hit the light and went on down the hall to go back to his own bed. He yawned, laid down, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

***


	2. You Said…What, Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean chat. Sam lays down the law.

Dean woke up hungover, and confused. This was not uncommon.

_I’m in bed? I don’t remember getting here. What the…._

He looked around. The bottle of Jim Beam was on the floor, empty, presumably right where he’d left it. He had no memory of having finished it, either, but clearly he had, so clearly he’d gotten to bed, too. Right?

_Ugh._

His head hurt, everything ached, and he badly needed to brush his teeth and get some caffeine into his system somehow. By IV, maybe. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, slowly. He scrubbed his hands through his hair. He pushed himself up, and was alarmed when he lost balance and had to sit right back down.

_Whoa._

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then blinked a few times.

_Okay, let’s try that again._

He pushed himself up, a little more slowly, and felt better about himself when he managed to stand. And then tried to take a step, and fell over, face first, right onto the floor.

_Ow. Dammit._

“Mornin’, Sunshine.” Sam’s voice. “Or rather, afternoon. You slept most of the day.” Sam leaned down and hauled Dean up with one practiced hand. “You steady? Or you gonna fall again? You wanna lie back down, or you gonna get your ass moving, man?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up, I’m up,” Dean muttered, irritably.

“Here.” Sam offered him a cup of coffee. Dean took the mug, then inhaled deeply.

“Ohhhh. Coffee. You’re a god among men, Sammy.” He started sipping the caffeine-laced ambrosia.

“Yeah, right. I was gonna have Cas take a look at you, but I guess he got an early start today. I actually got some decent sleep, for a change, woke up around ten, he was nowhere to be found,” Sam explained.

“Umm. Yeah. Um, about Cas, Sam….He’s…gone.”

“Wait…what? _Gone?_ ” Sam couldn’t quite process that statement.

“Yeah, gone, and not coming back. He said…he said that it was 'time he moved on.'” Dean drank a swig of coffee.

“But…why? Why would Cas _leave_? He _lives_ here. _His stuff is still in his room, for Chuck’s sake_. I think you misunderstood, Dean,” Sam insisted.

“No, no misunderstanding, Sam. He announced he was going, and walked out. The stuff in Cas’ room? That’s all stuff that I gave him. He didn’t want it,” Dean’s voice broke. “He didn’t want _me_ , Sam. He said that you and I had each other.”

“Wha…? Dean, that makes _no_ sense. What did you say?”

“I didn’t say _anything_. He said, ‘Jack’s dead. Chuck’s gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.’ And then he just… _left_.”

“And you didn’t try to _stop_ him?”

“Dude, his mind was made up. And _everyone_ leaves, eventually, Sam. Everyone.”

“Okay, so, what did you say to Cas _before_ that? You must have said _something_ , Dean. What’d you say?” Sam pressed.

“What, you want the whole conversation?”

“Yeah, I think I need it, if this is gonna make any sense.”

“I had just gotten a drink. Cas asked how you were, and I said ‘not great.’ He said he was ‘sorry about Rowena.’ I asked why he hadn’t stuck to the plan. He said that Belphegor was lying, using us, he was going to eat all the souls and take over. I pointed out that Belphegor’s a demon, demons lie, and said we would have figured it out, after, with Rowena. Cas said the plan changed because, like always, something went wrong. And that was an _excuse_ , and we both knew it, and it irritated me, so I asked him why that something always seems to be him.” Dean studiously avoided Sam’s eyes, drinking his coffee.

“ _You said... **what** , now?_ Oh, Dean. Was that it?”

“Not quite. Cas said that I used to trust him, but I could barely look at him now. He said he’d tried to talk to me, but I didn’t wanna hear. He said I didn’t care and that he was dead to me, because I still blamed him for Mom. And I didn’t say anything, because… well, to an extent, he was right. I _do_ blame him for Mom. And then he said he didn’t think there was anything left for him to say, and he turned away. And I asked where he was going, and that’s when he said he was leaving, that it was time for him to move on. And then he left. And that was it, Sam. That was the whole conversation.” Dean kept his eyes down.

“Dean. How could you let him _leave_ like that, man?”

“ _How could he just **walk away** , Sam?_” Dean’s anger bubbled up and lit up his eyes. “ _Yeah_ , I’m angry. _I’m pissed as hell_. Why aren’t you? _Our mother is dead_ because….”

“Dean, Mom’s dead because _Jack_ made a mistake. Not because of Cas.”

“Yeah, and Jack’s gone….”

“Because of _Chuck_ , not Cas. Dean, look, I get that you’re angry that Mom’s gone again. I do, but you’re taking things out on Cas that just aren’t his fault, man. Dude, you make him into your whipping boy for everything, you take _everything_ out on him, and it’s not _fair_. I’ve made mistakes, too, Dean, you always manage to forgive _me_. Hell, you forgave me last night _for killing Rowena!_ And it’s not like _you’re_ perfect, either. So, why can’t you forgive **_Cas_** , Dean?”

“Because he _left_.”

“Yeah, because you blame him for Mom, and you didn’t try to stop him.”

“He walked away, Sam. _I didn’t tell him to leave!_ I didn’t kick him out.”

“Yeah, _this_ time.”

_“Hey!”_

“Well, Dean, you’ve kicked him out _before_. Why wouldn’t Cas assume that would be your next move?” Sam asked, pointedly.

Dean glared at his coffee mug, sullenly. “I wasn’t going to make him leave.”

“Did _he_ know that? Like he said, you barely look at him lately, Dean. Look, you’ve got issues. You’re putting everything on Cas, things that aren’t his fault, things he couldn’t have done anything about. I think you need help, Dean. You’ve gotta sort things out in your own head.

"And dude, you’ve gotta stop drinking. I came in here last night, you were passed out on the floor. So, I put you to bed, but c’mon, man, I found an empty decanter, a dirty glass, three empty bottles in the War Room, and another empty bottle in here. Your liver’s gonna shut itself down, dude. You’re gonna end up in the hospital, or dead, from alcohol poisoning. You need help.”

“So, what do you suggest, Sam? AA? Sit around at a weekly meeting with a bunch of other drunks, where we talk about how great God is? Because I don’t think that’s gonna work, _seeing as how I’ve met the guy_.”

“No, I don’t think AA would help. It would take too long. And going to rehab would likely end up with you being permanently institutionalized, given the things you’d have to explain. There’s too much for anyone to assume it was just a metaphor.

“No, I was thinking therapy with Mia Vallens, Dean. She knows that the things you’d be talking about are real, that monsters exist, because she technically _is_ one. I think she might be, realistically, your only choice for a therapist.

“Make an appointment, Dean, or I’ll do it for you. And make an effort. Because this isn’t just a one-off. You’ve been pushing people away your whole life, Dean, and it has to stop.” Sam smiled, but Dean knew he was serious. This wasn't a suggestion, it was an ultimatum. He'd lost Cas. He couldn't lose Sam, too. So, if Sam wanted him to see a therapist, he would. Even a shapeshifting monster therapist.

Dean huffed out a breath, but then nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, Sammy. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk about stuff.”

***


	3. And How Did That Make You Feel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First therapy session with Mia.

“Hello, Dean. Come in, please,” Mia Vallens stepped back to allow Dean to enter her office. He stepped in, and nervously wiped his damp palms on his green Army surplus jacket. “Please, have a seat.”

Dean sat on the couch and looked around. “Did you redecorate? I don’t remember that ficus in the corner being here when we were here last.”

“I did add a few things, but I wouldn’t say it was a redecoration, _per se_. More like a continuation of a decorating plan,” Mia smiled.

“So, Dean, last time you were here, you didn’t seem to want to talk. What’s changed?”

“Um. Well, to be honest…Sam kinda laid down the law and told me I had to get some help. And…and I think, maybe, maybe he might be right.” Dean looked at his hands studiously.

“I’m angry, Mia. All the time. At everyone and everything. I take it out on everyone around me. I push people away, and at this point, really, the only person left is Sam. I’m tired of it. I don’t want this anger anymore.”

Mia nodded. “I told you when you were here last, Dean, that your anger could become a problem. Tell me if I’m wrong, Dean, but I think you tend to push your feelings down, bury them, rather than deal with them; is that right?”

Dean thought about it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, when do you think you started doing that?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t.”

Mia made a note. “Dean, what’s your _earliest_ memory? Think back, take your time. What’s the _very first thing_ you remember?”

Dean closed his eyes and thought. Could he remember back before the fire? Maybe…just…just before….

“I was little. Four. Sam was just a baby. Dad had been on a trip for work, and I remember…he came home early. Mom and I were up in Sammy’s nursery, and he came in and surprised us. I remember he picked me up and gave me a hug, and laughed, and he asked if I thought Sammy was ready to play catch with us yet, and I shook my head and said, ‘No, Daddy!’ and he laughed again. And I think that might have been the last time I ever heard my father laugh.”

Mia made another note. “Why did your father stop laughing, Dean?”

“Because that was the night that my mom died. The night Azazel killed her, fed demon blood to Sammy, and burned down our house.”

“Who was Azazel, Dean?” Mia asked.

“He was a Yellow-Eyed Demon, one of the four Princes of Hell, created by Lucifer. He fed demon blood to certain children to awaken dormant psychic powers in them to find a leader for a demon army. He wanted Sammy to be that leader. Of course, we didn’t know any of that then. We found it all out much, much later.”

“Okay, let’s go back to that day, Dean. After your father laughed, then what happened?”

“Um…we had dinner, and then Mom took me upstairs and put me to bed, while Dad watched the game on TV. And then Mom went to bed, too. I fell asleep. And then I woke up, because there were loud noises that I didn’t understand, people yelling, Mom screamed, and then everything got quiet for a minute. And then, I heard Dad yell, ‘Mary!’ and there was this really loud _whooshing_ noise, which I know now was the fire starting, and I got up and went out in the hallway to see what was going on. Dad came from Sam’s nursery out into the hall, carrying Sammy. He saw me standing there in my pjs, and he handed the baby to me. He told me, _‘Take your brother outside, as fast as you can, and don’t look back,’_ and he went back into the nursery. I carried Sam downstairs and outside, and I think we got about as far as three feet from the porch, and the window of Sam’s nursery blew out, with the flames billowing, smoke rising, and I remember that I could feel the heat, and it was _searing_. And then suddenly, Dad was there, and he was picking me and Sam up in his arms and hugging us, and then running with us in his arms, away from the house and that awful heat, out into the street. And then everything gets confused in my head, with the fire engines, and police cars, and ambulances, and all the neighbors standing around, gossiping.”

“And how did you feel, Dean?” Mia asked.

“I was scared. There was so much noise, and it was dark out and so late. I was tired. I didn’t know where Mom was, and I didn’t understand what was happening. But I was _proud_ , too, that Dad had trusted me with Sammy, and I had gotten him out. And after that, it was always my job to take care of Sam. Dad owned part of an auto repair shop, he was a good mechanic, and for about a year after the fire, he kept working there. But he drank more often, and then, he started hunting. Really, he was looking for answers about what had killed Mom, but he’d go after just about _any_ monster. And he dragged me and Sam along on the road. By the age of eight, I knew how to shoot and to field-strip several kinds of guns. I knew how to make box mac’n’cheese, or heat up canned pasta. I knew how to budget, and could really stretch a dollar. I knew how to salt the windows and doors of our motel room. And Dad would leave us in a motel room, alone, for two or three days at a time, while he was off hunting. It was my job to keep Sammy fed, and safe.”

“And who kept _you_ safe, Dean?” Mia asked.

“Me. There was no one else.” Dean shrugged.

“And how did that make you feel, Dean?”

“Proud. Proud that I could take care of Sam, and myself, and didn’t _need_ help doing it.”

“And is that _all_ you felt, Dean?” Mia prodded, gently.

“Yeah.”

“Really? You weren’t _angry_ with your father, for putting so much responsibility on you and leaving you alone to deal with such tremendous pressure at such a young age?”

Dean’s hand came up and a finger went inside his collar, seeking to loosen it. He could feel his face warming. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered.

“ _Maybe?_ ” Mia made another note.

“Yeah, okay, yeah, I was angry. I don’t think I even knew it at the time, though.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t realize it _then_ , Dean. But you do realize it _now_ , yes? That you were angry with your father, and that he deserved that anger?”

Dean nodded, and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, Mia, I was - hell, I still _am_. And he _did_ deserve it. I built him way up in my mind as this great guy, this _hero_ , but really…he was a _drunk_ who abandoned his kids for days at a time.”

“Is that _all_ he did, Dean?” Mia asked.

“N-no. He….”

“He what, Dean?”

“He _yelled_. A lot. At both of us, but more me than Sam. He favored Sammy. I was his little soldier, someone to give orders who had to fulfill them. Sammy was the golden child,” Dean stated. It was just a fact, not said with bitterness.

“Is that it, Dean? Just yelling and favoring Sam?”

“N-no. He…he hit me. Hell, he _beat_ me. I didn’t misbehave, ever, I was never rebellious – that was Sam – but if I didn’t do what Dad told me to do, _exactly_ as he told me to do it, there was hell to pay.”

“Did he hit Sam, too?”

“No. I wouldn’t let him. If it looked like Sam might get into trouble, I found a way to get Dad’s attention. Made him hit me, instead,” Dean admitted.

“Did he hit you before the fire, Dean?”

“I…I don’t think so. I don’t remember him hitting me _after_ the fire, either, until….”

“Until when, Dean?”

“I think it started with the shtriga attack. I think I was…maybe ten years old, so Sammy was six. Dad left us alone, again, told me not to set foot outside the motel room. I put Sam to bed, and he was asleep, and I was bored. The motel had a little arcade room, so I went to play a game. When I got back, there was this…thing, attacking Sammy. I-I tried to stop it, but I wasn’t getting anywhere, and at the last minute, Dad came in and shot it. He gathered Sam to his chest in a hug, and then turned to me. He yelled at me, wanted to know how I could let it happen. I said that I’d just wanted some _air_ , a minute to myself, and he just hauled off and backhanded me across the face. Told me I was a selfish brat, that it was my job to take care of my brother, and I had _failed_. And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to his friend’s house, and we stayed with Pastor Jim for a while. Didn’t hear from Dad for a few months. Didn’t know if he was alive or dead, whether he was okay or not. And then one day, he was there, and it was back on the road for us, like nothing had happened.”

“How did that make you feel, Dean?” Mia wanted to know.

“Like a fucking _boomerang_. It was always all or nothing with Dad. Either he was there, completely in the moment, laser focused, or he was just _gone_ , out the door, leaving us alone. Never any explanation, beyond, _‘I was working a case, Dean.’_ Just, _‘Take care of your brother, boy.’_ Or, _‘here’s some money, I’ve gotta go for a while, but I’ll be back.’_ And sometimes he came back before the money ran out, but sometimes he _didn’t_. And I’d be _terrified_ that I wouldn’t be able to keep Sammy safe, and fed, that we’d get kicked out of the motel room, and have nowhere to go, or that Child Protective Services would take us, and we’d never see Dad again. And sometimes….” Dean’s voice cracked, and a tear slid down his cheek. “Sometimes, I wished he _wouldn’t_ come back. That I could just take Sammy and go away, find somewhere safe, and get a job, and not have to _worry_ anymore.”

“I understand, Dean. You were a child, forced to become a parent, and take on responsibilities you never should have had to deal with at that age. I think you _should_ be angry with your father, Dean. _He failed you_. **_You_ **didn’t fail, not him, and not Sam. You did very well, Dean. I think you shoved that anger down because it wasn’t safe then to let it surface. _But it’s safe now, Dean._ You can give yourself permission to feel that anger, let it out. **_Be angry_** with your father, Dean. It’s okay.”

Dean nodded, gasping for breath like a landed fish, tears streaming down his face, as long-buried emotions swamped him. “Oh, God, Mia…I was so _mad_. I was so _angry_. I hated him. _I **hated** him_. _That **bastard**! He had **no right!**_ ”

“No, he didn’t, Dean. You’re absolutely right. Let it out, Dean. Let it out, and let it go.” Mia moved to sit next to Dean, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dean turned into her, and bawled like a baby, and Mia let him.

“That’s it. That’s it. Let it all out. Very good.”

A few moments passed, and the tears slowed. Dean shuddered, and took the tissue that Mia held out for him. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes. He drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“You know…I actually did let that out once before,” Dean said.

“Did you?”

Dean nodded. “I was kind of having a fight with...myself, and I admitted that I was mad at Dad. But then, after…it was like I just swallowed it right back down. Went right back to ignoring it. Guess I can’t do that anymore, huh?”

“No. You can’t. This won’t be the last time we talk about your father, Dean. But this was a very good first step.

"I want to give you some homework, Dean. I want you to start a journal. I want you to write it from the standpoint of that ten-year-old Dean, who just needed some air and some free time. Write about what happened, and how you felt about it. Each night, for a week, write about that one incident, without looking back at the prior entries. And then bring that with you when you come back next week. Can you do that?”

“Write about the same night, each night for a week? Um…okay. Kinda don’t see the point, but, sure. I can do that.”

“Good. Okay, then. See you next week, Dean.” Mia smiled and showed Dean out.

Dean went out to the Impala and slid behind the wheel. He felt a little lighter.

_Maybe…maybe this wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe it would help to work through some of the issues._

He turned the engine over, and headed back to the bunker.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! Any comments, so far?


	4. Dean's Homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes his journal entries.

On his way back, Dean stopped off at the grocery store to get some more cereal for himself and some fresh vegetables for Sam, and he noticed the school supply aisle on his way to the register. Figuring that Mia had called it “homework” and that he should take it seriously, he picked up a notebook and some good pens to use in writing his journal entries. He paid, put his change in the jar by the register, and walked out to Baby. He slid behind the wheel and hit play on the cassette deck…and realized that what was in the cassette deck was the mix tape he’d made for Cas. Cas had popped it in a couple of days before that meeting with Chuck in the cemetery, neither of them had remembered to pop it back out, and Dean hadn’t had music on in the car since then.

Dean winced as he heard the opening lines to Led Zeppelin’s _Ramble On_ :

_Leaves are falling all around_

_It's time I was on my way_

_Thanks to you I'm much obliged_

_For such a pleasant stay_

_But now it's time for me to go…._

He hit stop and turned the music off.

_Shit. No, it wasn’t time for you to go, Cas._

Dean sighed. He put the Impala in gear and drove home in silence.

***

After dropping the groceries in the kitchen, Dean went to his room to write his first journal entry. He sat at his desk, opened the notebook, took the cap off the pen…and stared at the blank page.

He had no idea what to write. He’d already told Mia what had happened. He didn’t get why he had to write about the same incident again, much less write about it every day for a week. But he’d said he’d give it a go.

_Dean Winchester is no quitter, dammit._

He closed his eyes. He let himself remember. And then, he opened his eyes, and started to write.

***

_ First journal entry - Tuesday afternoon, after session. _

_It was hot. It was mid-summer, and the motel room we were staying in either didn’t have AC, or it just wasn’t working, I don’t remember which._

_It wasn’t all that late, but Sam was only six, so I always tried to get him to sleep early. Little kids need sleep. So, I think it was around 7:30, or maybe 8:00, and Sammy was sleeping. I was hot, and bored, and nowhere close to being ready to try to sleep myself._

_I remember thinking how I just wanted some air, maybe the arcade room would have AC, and what was the harm in heading out for a little bit? So, I went, and I played some stupid game for maybe ten minutes. But it wasn’t any cooler there, and the game wasn’t all that exciting, so I was just as bored, and I went back to the room._

_The first thing I noticed once inside was that the temperature in the room was about ten degrees cooler, both than it had been when I left, and than it was outside. And, being John Winchester’s kid, my first thought was ‘ghost’, so I picked up the tire iron in the corner by the door, and crept in, looking around, trying to be quiet. And then I saw it – a hooded figure, sitting on the edge of Sammy’s bed, its arms around Sam, and it was like it was eating Sam’s energy, or his soul or something._

_I ran forward and tried to hit the figure with the tire iron, without hitting Sammy. But it just passed right through the thing, like it had no effect on it at all. So I tried again, and still nothing._

_And then, out of nowhere, Dad was behind me. He shoved me back out of the way and shot the thing with his shotgun. It looked up, but then suddenly it just dissipated like smoke, and it was gone._

_Dad dropped the shotgun on the floor, and I picked it up. He sat on the edge of the bed, gathered Sammy to him, and cuddled him, then looked up at me with wild eyes._

_He yelled at me, “How could you let this happen?”_

_I said I had only been gone a few minutes, I just wanted some air._

_He hauled off and backhanded me across the face. Told me I was a selfish brat, that it was my job to take care of my brother, and I had failed._

_And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to Pastor Jim’s house. We stayed with Pastor Jim for a few months._

_And that’s the way it was._

***

Satisfied with his first journal entry, Dean closed the notebook, recapped the pen, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.

***

“So, how’d your first therapy session go?” Sam asked. They were done eating, but still sitting at the kitchen table, hanging out. Sam was sipping a cup of tea, Dean was simply enjoying having nowhere to go for the moment.

“It actually went okay. Mia gave me some homework, so I got started on that when I got home,” Dean told him.

“Homework? And you did it right away when you got home from school?” Sam chuckled.

Dean threw a wadded-up paper napkin at him. “Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam grinned.

“We talked about something that happened a long time ago, back when we were kids, something I haven’t thought of in years. And she wants me to remember what it was like when it happened, and write it all down, each day for a week, without looking back at prior entries. I’m not sure why. I mean, we already talked about it, and I’m not sure what the point is of having me write about the same incident over and over, but I said I’d make an effort, so….” Dean trailed off.

“Hmm. Interesting. Do you mind telling me which incident it was? You don’t have to, I’m just curious,” Sam inquired.

“The time the shtriga attacked you, in Wisconsin,” Dean replied.

“Oh, and then we went to stay with Pastor Jim after? Yeah. I was really little. I don’t remember when it happened, I just remember you telling me about it when we went back and killed the shtriga later.” Sam took another sip.

“Wait…what? Didn’t Dad kill it?” Dean was confused.

“Don’t you remember? It was after we first met Ed and Larry, those idjits from _Ghostfacers_. When the case with them was over, remember, I called them and said I was a Hollywood producer, and you put a dead fish in their car for their road trip to California? Right after that, Dad sent us coordinates again, and sent us to Fitchburg, Wisconsin. A bunch of kids were getting really sick with pneumonia. Remember?” Sam reminded him.

“I remember the _dead fish_ ,” Dean grinned. “But no, I don’t remember the _case_.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t want your memories getting confused with things that I tell you, so I won’t say any more. In fact, I’m gonna go read for a while and then go to sleep early. Just because I can.” Sam carried his empty mug to the sink and added it to the dishes from dinner.

“Okay. I’ll get the dishes, Sammy, you go relax.”

Sam nodded and left the room…and Dean decided to have another slice of pie.

_Dishes can wait. **Pie is important.**_

***

The next morning, Dean puttered around the bunker wearing his hot dog pajamas, eating a mixture of Lucky Charms and Cheerios (“Lucky Cheerios!”) and generally avoiding doing anything resembling work.

In the afternoon, he went down to the garage and changed Baby’s oil and air filter and did a few other minor maintenance tasks.

And then he went to his room to do his homework.

***

_Second journal entry - Wednesday afternoon._

_It was hot. It was right after the Fourth of July, and the motel we were staying in didn’t have AC. The room was bigger than most, and it had a separate little bedroom area, and a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator. I made some canned pasta for Sammy for dinner, but he didn’t want it, so I gave him the last of the cereal instead, and ate the pasta myself._

_Then I put Sam to bed. It wasn’t all that late, but Sam was only six, so I always tried to get him to sleep early. Little kids need sleep._

_So, around 8:00, Sammy was sleeping, and I was watching TV, but it was an episode of **Hogan’s Heroes** that I had already seen a million times, and I was bored._

_I remember thinking that maybe reception would be cooler, and I knew there were some arcade games there. I had a bunch of quarters left over from doing laundry the day before, so, I went, and I played a few games. But it wasn’t any cooler there, so I went back to the room._

_The first thing I noticed once inside was a strange light coming from the bedroom. I grabbed the shotgun by the door, and crept in, trying to be quiet. And then I saw it – a hooded figure, sitting on the edge of Sammy’s bed, its arms around Sam, and it was like it was eating Sam’s energy, or his soul or something._

_I cocked the gun, but the thing heard the noise, and hissed at me. And then, out of nowhere, Dad was behind me. He shoved me back out of the way and shot the thing with his pistol, and it went out the window, which was open a crack._

_Dad sat on the edge of the bed, gathered Sammy to him, and cuddled him, then looked up at me with wild eyes._

_He yelled at me, “How could you let this happen?”_

_I said I just went out to get some air. He told me I was a selfish brat, that I wasn’t supposed to leave the room, that it was my job to take care of my brother, and I had failed._

_And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to Pastor Jim’s house. We stayed with Pastor Jim for a few months._

_And that’s the way it was._

***

Satisfied with his second journal entry, Dean closed the notebook, recapped the pen, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.

***

The next morning, Dean field-stripped and cleaned his guns.

In the afternoon, he watched TV in the room he liked to call the Dean-Cave. He might even have watched a documentary about bees that he knew Cas had liked.

And then he went to his room to do his homework.

***

_Third journal entry - Thursday afternoon._

_It was hot. It was right after school got out for the year, so, mid-June, but the motel we were staying in didn’t have AC. The room was bigger than most, and it had a separate little bedroom, and a kitchen with a stove and a full-size refrigerator. I made some canned pasta for Sammy for dinner, but he didn’t want it, so I gave him the last of the Lucky Charms instead, even though I hadn’t had any, and threw the pasta away._

_Then I put Sam to bed. It wasn’t all that late, but Sam was only six, so I always tried to get him to sleep early. Little kids need sleep._

_He kept whining about how hot it was, so I cracked the window for him, figuring I could close it after he fell asleep._

_So, around 8:30, Sammy was sleeping, and I was watching TV, but it was an episode of **The Dukes of Hazard** that I had already seen a million times, and I was bored._

_I had a bunch of quarters left over from doing laundry the day before, so, I went to reception, and I played arcade games until the desk clerk told me he was closing up for the night._

_The first thing I noticed when I got back was a strange light coming from the bedroom. I grabbed the rifle by the door, and crept in, trying to be quiet. And then I saw a hooded dark figure, leaning over Sammy threateningly._

_I cocked the gun, but the thing heard the noise, and it reared up and hissed at me. And then, Dad burst into the room. He shoved me back out of the way and shot the thing with his pistol, and it went out the window._

_Dad sat on the edge of the bed, gathered Sammy to him, and cuddled him, then looked up at me with wild eyes._

_He yelled at me, “How could you let this happen?”_

_I said I just went out to get some air. He told me I wasn’t supposed to leave the room, that it was my job to take care of my brother, and I had failed._

_And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to Pastor Jim’s house. We stayed with Pastor Jim for a few months._

_And that’s the way it was._

***

Satisfied with his third journal entry, Dean closed the notebook, recapped the pen, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.

***

The next morning, Dean tried mixing Wheaties with Cookie Crisp cereal and actual cookies, and then extolled the combination to Sam, who rolled his eyes and ate a yogurt.

In the afternoon, Dean reorganized the pantry and cleaned out the refrigerator.

And then he went to his room to do his homework.

***

_Fourth journal entry - Friday afternoon._

_It was hot. It was early June, but it had been unseasonably warm for a while, and we were due for a storm, so there was that oppressive mugginess you get when it really ought to have started raining already but it just won’t start. The motel we were staying in didn’t have AC, but it was a little suite, with a separate little bedroom, and a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator, a stove, and a table with chairs._

_I made some macaroni and marshmallow fluff crap for Sammy for dinner, but he didn’t want it (can’t really blame him, neither did I). He wanted Lucky Charms. There was only one bowl of it left, and I hadn’t had any, but he did that puppy-dog eyes thing that he knows gets me. So, I gave him the last of the Lucky Charms instead, even though I hadn’t had any, and threw the pasta crap away._

_After dinner, I let Sammy watch TV with me for a while, but eventually he went to bed. It wasn’t all that late, but Sam was only six, and little kids need sleep. So, by 9:00, Sammy was sleeping, and I was watching TV, but it was an episode of **The Love Boat** that I had already seen, and I was bored._

_I had some quarters that I’d found, so, I went over to reception, and I played arcade games until the desk clerk told me he was closing up for the night, around 2:00._

_The first thing I noticed when I got back was a strange light coming from the bedroom. I grabbed the rifle by the door, and crept in, trying to be quiet. And then I saw a hooded dark figure, leaning over Sammy._

_I cocked the gun, but the thing heard the noise, and it reared up and hissed at me. And then, Dad came into the room. He shouted at me to get out of the way and shot the thing with his pistol several times, and it went out the window, shattering the glass._

_Dad woke Sammy, hugged him close, and made sure he was okay, then looked up at me, and asked, “What happened?”_

_I said I went out. He told me I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave the room, wasn’t supposed to let Sammy out of my sight._

_And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to Pastor Jim’s house. We stayed with Pastor Jim for a few months._

_And that’s the way it was._

***

Satisfied with his fourth journal entry, Dean closed the notebook, recapped the pen, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.

***

The next morning, Dean found that the Wheaties were stale because he’d left the bag open the day before, and there was no more Cookie Crisp cereal, so he settled for just eating the remaining actual cookies. Then he watched a couple of movies on Netflix.

In the afternoon, Dean cleaned the bathroom.

And then he went to his room to do his homework.

***

**_Fifth journal entry - Saturday afternoon._ **

_It was hot. It was late May or early June, but it had been unseasonably warm for a while, and we were due for a storm, so it has humid, too. There was that oppressive mugginess you get when it really ought to have started raining already but the storm just won’t come. The motel we were staying in had AC, but it wasn’t working. It was more than a room that time, it was a little suite, with a separate little bedroom, and a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator, a stove, and a table with chairs._

_I made some macaroni and marshmallow fluff crap for Sammy for dinner, but he didn’t want it (can’t really blame him, neither did I). He wanted Lucky Charms. There was only a little of it left, and I hadn’t had any, but he did that puppy-dog eyes thing that he knows gets me. So, even though I really wanted it, I gave him the last of the Lucky Charms. I threw the pasta crap away._

_After dinner, I let Sammy watch TV with me for a while, but eventually he went to bed. It wasn’t all that late, but Sam was only six, and little kids need sleep. So, by 10:00, Sammy was sleeping, and I was watching TV, but it was an episode of **Dallas** that I had already seen, and I was bored._

_I had a roll of quarters I had stolen from the laundromat, thinking I might do laundry that weekend if Dad hadn’t come back yet. I figured I could use some of them on myself, so, I went over to reception, and I played arcade games until the desk clerk told me he was closing up for the night, around 2:00._

_The first thing I noticed when I got back was this weird light coming from the bedroom. I grabbed the rifle by the door, and crept over to the bedroom door, trying to be quiet. I pushed the door open, and I saw a dark figure, leaning over Sammy._

_I cocked the gun, but the thing reared up and hissed at me. It scared me, and I hesitated. And then, Dad came into the room. He shouted at me to get out of the way and shot the thing with his pistol several times, and it went out the window, shattering the glass._

_Dad woke Sammy, hugged him close, and made sure he was okay. Then Dad glared at me, and asked, “What happened?”_

_I said I just went out. He said that he had told me I wasn’t supposed to leave the room, that he had told me I wasn’t supposed to let Sammy out of my sight. He went back to hugging and loving on Sammy, and ignoring me._

_And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to Pastor Jim’s house. We stayed with Pastor Jim for a while, I’m not sure how long._

_And that’s the way it was._

***

Satisfied with his fifth journal entry, Dean closed the notebook, recapped the pen, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.

***

The next morning, Dean went to the diner for breakfast, then to the grocery store for more cereal.

In the afternoon, Dean rearranged the pantry again, to accommodate the new purchases.

And then he went to his room to do his homework.

***

**_Sixth journal entry - Sunday afternoon._ **

_It was hot. It was late May or early June, but it had been unseasonably warm for a while, and we were due for a storm, so it has humid, too. There was that oppressive mugginess you get when it really ought to have started raining already but the storm just won’t come. The motel we were staying in had AC, but it wasn’t working. It was more than a room that time, it was a little suite, with a separate little bedroom, and a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator, a stove, and a table with chairs._

_I made some macaroni and marshmallow fluff crap for Sammy for dinner, but he didn’t want it after I added chocolate syrup (can’t really blame him, neither did I). He said he wanted Lucky Charms, but there was only a little of it left, and I hadn’t had any. But, Sam being Sam, he did that puppy-dog eyes thing that he knows always gets me. So, even though I really wanted it, I gave him the last of the Lucky Charms. I threw the pasta crap away._

_After dinner, I let Sammy watch TV with me for a while, but eventually he went to bed on his own. It wasn’t all that late, but Sam was only six, and little kids need sleep. So, by 10:00, Sammy was sleeping, and I was watching TV, but it was an episode of **Dallas** that I had already seen, and I was bored._

_I had a roll of quarters I had stolen from the laundromat, thinking I might do laundry that weekend if Dad hadn’t come back yet. I figured I could use some of them on myself, and still have enough for a couple of loads of clothes. So, I went over to reception, and I played arcade games until the desk clerk told me he was closing up for the night, around 2:00._

_When I got back to the room, there was this weird light coming from around the bedroom door. I grabbed the rifle, went over to the bedroom door, pushed it open, and I saw a dark figure, leaning over Sammy. I cocked the gun, but the thing reared up and hissed at me. It scared me, and I hesitated._

_And then, Dad came into the room. He shouted at me to “get out of the way!” He shot the thing with his pistol several times, and it went out the window, shattering the glass. Then Dad woke Sammy, hugged him close, and asked if he was okay. Sam said he was. Then Dad glared at me, and asked, “What happened?”_

_I said I just went out. He said that he had told me I wasn’t supposed to leave the room, that he had told me I wasn’t supposed to let Sammy out of my sight. He went back to hugging and loving on Sammy, and ignoring me._

_And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to Pastor Jim’s house. We stayed with Pastor Jim for a while, I’m not sure how long._

_And that’s the way it was._

***

Satisfied with his sixth journal entry, Dean closed the notebook, recapped the pen, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.

***

The next morning, Dean made eggs, bacon, and pancakes for breakfast. Then he went down to the garage and washed all the cars. That took the rest of the morning, and most of the afternoon.

And then he went to his room to do his homework.

***

_Seventh journal entry - Monday afternoon._

_It was really hot. It was late May ~~or early June~~ , but it had been unseasonably warm for a while, and we were due for a storm, so it has humid, too. The weather guy on the news said it might even be tornado weather. There was that oppressive mugginess you get when it really ought to have started raining already but the storm just won’t come. The motel we were staying in ~~either~~ didn’t have AC, ~~or it wasn’t working,~~ but we had more than a regular room that time; it was a little suite, with a separate little bedroom, and a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator, a stove, and a table with chairs._

_I made some macaroni and marshmallow fluff crap for Sammy for dinner, but he didn’t want it after I added chocolate syrup and ham (can’t really blame him, neither did I). He said he wanted Lucky Charms, but there was only a little of it left, and I hadn’t had any. But, Sam being Sam, he did that puppy-dog eyes thing that he knows always gets me. So, even though I really wanted it, I gave him the last of the Lucky Charms. I threw the pasta crap away._

_After dinner, I let Sammy watch TV with me for a while, but eventually he went to bed on his own. It wasn’t all that late, but Sam was only six, and little kids need sleep. So, by 10:30, Sammy was sleeping, and I was watching TV, but it was an episode of **Dallas** that I had already seen, and I was bored._

_I had a roll of quarters I had stolen from the laundromat, thinking I might do laundry that weekend if Dad hadn’t come back yet. I figured I could spend some of them on myself, and still have enough for at least one load of clothes. So, I went over to reception, and I played arcade games until the desk clerk told me he was closing up for the night, around 3:00._

_When I got back to the room, there was this weird light coming from around the bedroom door. I grabbed the rifle, went over to the bedroom door, pushed it open, and I saw a figure leaning over Sammy. I cocked the gun, but the thing reared up and hissed at me. It scared me, and I hesitated to shoot._

_And then, Dad came in, shouted at me to “get out of the way,” and shot the thing with his pistol several times. The thing went out the bedroom window, shattering the glass. Then Dad woke Sammy, hugged him close, and asked if he was okay._

_Sam said, “Yeah Dad, what's going on?”_

_T_ _hen Dad glared at me, and asked, “What happened?”_

_I said, "I went out."_

_Dad said, “What?!”_

_I said it was just for a second and that I was sorry._

_He said that he had told me I wasn’t supposed to leave the room, that he had told me I wasn’t supposed to let Sammy out of my sight._

_Then he went back to hugging and loving on Sammy. He ignored me._

_And then he packed up all our stuff, and drove us to Pastor Jim’s house. We stayed with Pastor Jim for a while, I’m not sure how long._

_And that’s the way it was._

***

Satisfied with his last journal entry before seeing Mia again, Dean closed the notebook, recapped the pen, and headed off to the kitchen to make dinner.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...? Comments are life, people! ;)


	5. Let Me Tell You My Story...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Sam find their own ways to cope.

Cas’ phone buzzed in his coat pocket.

_Another incoming text._

He didn’t bother to pull the phone out to look. He knew it’d be from Sam. He felt badly for not responding, as Sam was a true friend; but he needed some time to think, to feel, to be, without Winchester influence.

He’d driven aimlessly for a while, and eventually found himself at Grand Teton National Park. Walking around the park, he was _finally_ starting to feel grounded and at peace with himself. It had only taken two weeks for his stomach to unknot itself, and the feeling that he was going to come apart at the seams to subside. Not that he felt _good_ , yet. More like he had the sense that feeling good might be _possible_ at some point. Looking back, it had been quite a long time since he’d actually felt _good_.

To be fair, though, for eons, he’d felt nothing at all. Emotionless, just one of Heaven’s warriors, it would never have occurred to him to feel _anything_ , good or bad.

He could feel his grace starting to regenerate. That gave him some relief, as he’d wondered if he was going to become fully human again, and how he’d manage if he did. Though he didn’t need to sleep, he let himself rest often, hoping his grace would regenerate faster if he didn’t have to call on it.

Cas sat on a rock near the edge of a lake and looked out at the still clear water, shimmering in the sunlight. He sighed softly, closed his eyes, and let himself relax against the stone, warm from the sun.

He let his thoughts drift back…back to when he’d first spoken to Dean, after getting him out of Hell.

Not _with_ Dean, _to_ him. Dean couldn’t understand him, then. When he’d first spoken to Dean, he’d been in his true form, and his voice had shattered glass. But Cas could still remember every word he’d said. Of course, he’d been speaking in Enochian, but the English translation almost came easier to Cas now.

_Hello, Dean. Be ye not afraid. I am the angel Castiel, and I will guard and protect you, now and always, for you are the Righteous Man. I have raised you from Hell, and rebuilt you, piece by piece. I know your soul, and it is beautiful._

Cas knew he had failed to live up to those words. More than once, he’d left Dean to his own devices, left him alone, failed to watch over him, to protect him. He’d made so many grievous errors. He understood why Dean couldn’t forgive him; h _e couldn’t forgive himself_.

And here he was _again_. He’d left Dean alone. Of course Dean wasn’t alone, he had Sam. But _Cas_ wasn’t there, watching over him, as he ought to be. _Again_.

_I wish you could forgive me, Dean. I am so sorry that I fail so often. I am so sorry._

Cas felt the coolness of a shadow passing over him, indicating that someone was nearby, just as he heard….

“Sir? Are you all right?”

Cas opened his eyes and looked up at a petite blonde woman in a Park Ranger uniform. “Um, yes, thank you for your concern, miss. Um, ma’am. Um, Ranger. I’m…I’m fine.”

She squinted down at him. “You sure, Sir? You don’t look fine. You look like someone who’s been through the ringer, and you’re crying.” She held out a tissue. Cas took it gratefully and wiped his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s been a…a bit of a bad stretch, you might say. I needed to get away for a while, to think.”

“I hear ya. Well, Sir, you picked a good spot, I will say. Nice view here. You mind?” She gestured to the rock next to Cas, and he waved to indicate he didn’t. She sat next to him.

He expected her to say something more, but she didn’t. She just leaned back against the rock and watched the water and the trees. After a moment, Cas relaxed, and did the same. It was oddly comforting to have someone near who expected nothing from him.

After a while, he glanced over at her. “I don’t mean to keep you from your work, if you have something you need to do,” he told her.

“Oh, you’re not. It’s fine. I’m due a break, now and then. And this is a good place to take one. I sit here often, myself, and think. No worries,” she said.

“Look,” she continued, “I don’t wanna pry. But I’m a good listener, and you look like you’ve got some good stories need tellin’. So, if you wanna talk, talk. If you don’t wanna talk, well, that’s fine, too. I’ll just sit a spell and watch the water with ya. Up to you.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” Cas stared out over the lake’s surface.

And after a few moments of putting his thoughts in order, he began.

“Let me tell you my story….”

***

Sam sighed. Cas still wasn’t responding to his texts or answering his calls. Sam wondered if Cas had just turned off his phone, or if Cas really was ignoring him. He feared it was the latter. He didn’t know how to repair the damage.

He’d done what he could at this end; getting Dean to agree to therapy was a major breakthrough. Dean didn’t do feelings. But he knew Dean had been religiously working on his journal entries each afternoon, though he hadn’t shared them – Sam didn’t expect him to – and was really trying to make the sessions meaningful. He wasn’t just sitting around in sullen silence, and, honestly, Sam didn’t think Dean had had a drink all week.

But he didn’t know what to do about Cas. He didn’t want to push too hard, on either Cas or Dean. But…

_Dammit, Cas is my friend, too. My other brother._

It hurt that he’d left, and now stubbornly refused to respond. Sam wanted someone he could talk to, about Mom, Jack, Rowena. Hell, even about Ketch.

_Shit. Maybe I need therapy, too._

He huffed a laugh.

_Okay, okay, no ‘maybe’ about it. I do._

But, just like Dean, his options for therapists were limited, in the extreme.

_I’ve been locked up enough, thanks. Don’t wanna go back to the psych ward, just because I’m sad. I **should** be sad, we’ve lost so many people lately, it’s not abnormal to be sad after multiple ‘major character’ deaths. Maybe a run would help. Get out, get some air, some sun. Couldn’t hurt._

He pushed himself up from the chair at the kitchen table and went to go put on his running clothes. He’d go pound the pavement and think about his breathing for a while, rather than all the recent losses. Get out of his own head for a bit.

_Yeah. That’ll do the trick._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Dean, next. I just didn't want anyone to think Cas and Sam weren't having to deal with things, too, or that I didn't care about them. ;)


	6. Ball of Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia hypnotizes Dean.

“Hello, Dean. Come in, please,” Mia Vallens stepped back to allow Dean to enter her office again.

“Please, have a seat. Did you bring your journal?”

Dean nodded and handed her the notebook.

“Now, Dean, let’s review. What was the assignment? Do you recall, specifically?” she asked.

“To write about the shtriga attack incident each day, without looking back at prior entries.”

“That’s correct. As I recall, last week, when I asked you to do this assignment, you felt a little silly. So, having done the exercise, Dean, how do you feel about it now?”

“Still silly. I didn’t look back at the prior entries, as you’d asked, but, Mia, I’m sure I wrote the same damn thing every time. I mean, it’s not like my memories are gonna change from day to day. I just don’t get the point of it.” Dean kept his tone reasonable, but Mia knew he’d been frustrated.

“Okay, Dean. Can I take a minute and read through the entries? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead,” Dean gave permission.

Mia opened the notebook and read through each entry, then went back and with a red pen started making notations.

“Wow, it really was homework, you’re grading my work and making corrections,” Dean joked.

Mia smiled.

“Not exactly, Dean. You said you were sure you had written the same thing each day. But actually, there are several differences from entry to entry. You vary details significantly. I’m marking the differences, so you’ll be able to see them,” Mia told him, pen still moving quietly.

Dean was stunned.

_My memories shifted from day to day? What the Hell?_

“Um, Mia…is that…um…usual? For someone’s memories to…shift like that?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, absolutely, Dean. Don’t worry.” She handed the notebook back to Dean.

As Dean looked at all the red ink, he could see where he had, indeed, changed details, sometimes small, sometimes large, but each entry was, in fact, different in some way from every other entry.

“Now, Dean, what I’d like to do, if you’re willing, is to put you under hypnosis, and take you back to that day, and have you remember what, exactly, really happened. My guess is that your last entry is likely the closest to reality. Would you like to find out?”

Dean nodded, wide-eyed.

“I had no idea I was doing this,” he whispered.

“I know, Dean. It’s fine, it’s very common, truly. So, ready to find out the truth? Lay back on the couch and get comfortable.

"Just relax. Let all the tension and stress of the last few weeks drain out of you and into the couch. Don’t worry, the couch can take it.”

Dean could hear the humor in her voice, and would have grinned, but he felt so relaxed already, he didn’t want to tense up his facial muscles.

Mia continued to take him through some additional relaxation exercises, then counted backward from ten and quietly snapped her fingers.

“Okay, Dean, you understand what we’re doing. You’re under hypnosis. You’re relaxed, and calm, and you’ll stay that way. Now listen to my voice, Dean. You’ll hear me, no matter what else is going on. Okay?

“Now, think back, let yourself remember. You’re in a motel. You’re with your father, and Sam. Your father is giving you instructions. What is he saying, Dean?”

“Dad’s saying that I know the drill. _‘Anybody calls, you don’t pick up. If it’s me, I’ll ring once, then call back. You got that?’_

:And then I said that I would _‘only answer the phone unless it rings once first.’_

"Dad said, _‘come on, dude, look alive. This stuff is important.’_

"And I said that I knew that, but we’d _‘gone over it like a million times and you know I’m not stupid.’_

"And then he admitted that he knew that, _‘but it only takes one mistake, you got that?’_

"I didn’t answer. And then he said that if he wasn’t back by Sunday night, and I said then I should _‘call Pastor Jim.’_

"And then he told me to _‘lock the doors, the windows, close the shades, and, most important….’_ And then we both said, together, _‘watch out for Sammy.’_ And I said _‘I know.’_

"Dad said, _‘All right. If something tries to bust in?’_

"And I said, _‘shoot first, ask questions later.’_

"And Dad said _‘that’s my man.’_ And then he left.”

“Good, Dean. And now it’s a few nights later. It’s the evening of the attack. You’ve made dinner. Tell me what you remember,” Mia prompted.

“Sammy was sitting at the kitchen table. The room wasn’t like a regular motel room, it was almost an apartment, but it still had kind of a skeevy feel to it, ‘cause it was so run down and kinda grimy. But it had a separate bedroom, and a kitchen with a stove and a full-sized refrigerator, and a real table with chairs to eat at, and that was kinda nice.

“I poured Sammy a glass of milk and set it on the table, and he asked _‘when’s Dad gonna get back?’_ and I had made canned pasta, and it was ready, so I grabbed the pot from the stove, and said, _‘tomorrow.’_

"And Sammy asked _‘when?’_ I dumped the pasta into a bowl for him, and said, _‘I dunno. He usually comes in late though. Now eat your dinner.’_

"And then Sammy said _‘I’m sick of scabetti-ohs,’_ – he couldn’t say ‘spaghetti’ right then – and that frustrated me, because he’d asked me to make them, so I said, _‘you’re the one who wanted’em!’_ And then he said he wanted Lucky Charms, the cereal.

“But I wanted him to eat the pasta, because it was already made, and I didn’t want it going to waste. So I told him, _‘there’s no more Lucky Charms,’_ but he said he’d seen the box and knew that there was. So I said, _‘okay, maybe there is, but there’s only enough for one bowl and I haven’t had any yet.’_

"But then Sam gave me his puppy-dog-eye look, which he knows always gets me to give in, and so I sighed, dumped the pasta in the trash, and put the cereal box on the table. And then, because Sammy was really a good kid, he goes and gets the prize out of the box, and offers it to me, saying, _‘d’you want the prize?’_ So I took it, because it was a peace offering, even though I really didn’t care about the stupid prize.”

“Very good, Dean. Now it’s later that evening. How are you feeling? What did you do next?” Mia asked, calmly.

“It was our third night in this crap room, and I was _climbing the walls_. I needed…oh, man, I just needed to get some _air_. I’d been watching TV for hours, Sam was sound asleep. By 11:00, I just couldn’t sit there anymore. So I turned the TV off, checked in on Sammy, and then left, locking the door behind me. And I went down to reception, and I played arcade games until the desk clerk told me _‘kid, we’re closing up.’_

“I went back to the room, and there was this weird light coming from the bedroom, so I moved closer, and saw this dark figure, the shtriga, leaning over Sammy. I reached for the rifle by the door, and cocked it, but the shtriga heard that, and it reared up and _hissed_ at me. I was _terrified_ , I _froze_.

"And then Dad burst into the room, handgun raised. He shouted at me to _‘get out of the way!’_ so I ducked down, and he shot the shtriga three or four times, and it jumped out the bedroom window, shattering the glass.

"And then Dad rushed over to Sammy and pulled him close, and said, _‘Sammy. Sammy. Sammy. You okay?’_

"And Sammy woke up, and said, _‘Yeah, Dad. What’s going on?’_ and Dad said, _‘you all right?’_ and hugged him close, and then turned to just absolutely glare at me, and he demanded, _‘what happened?’_

“And I kinda stammered out, _‘I…I…I just went out.’_ And Dad said, _‘What?!’_ and I said, _‘just for a second. I’m sorry!’_ And Dad said, _‘I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight!’_ And then he just went back to hugging Sammy, and ignoring me.

“And then he packed up all our stuff, and we booked it outta there. Dad dropped us off at Pastor Jim’s. We were there a while, I’m not sure how long.”

“Good job, Dean. I’m going to count backward from ten, and you’re going to wake up, and feel very relaxed and calm, okay? Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one.”

Mia snapped her fingers quietly, and Dean’s eyes fluttered open. He couldn’t even remember having closed them.

“Oh, wow, Mia. That was intense,” Dean said.

“How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Good. Good, I’m…I’m actually feeling pretty good.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck gently.

“So, now we know how it all happened. And it happened a good deal differently from the way you related it to me last week, and fairly close to the way your last journal entry described it.

"So, Dean, did your father shove or hit you in this incident?” Mia probed, gently.

“No, he _didn’t_. He _yelled_ at me, but God, I was actually gone, and left Sammy alone, for _hours_. I _deserved_ to be yelled at for that, even _without_ the shtriga attack. And, you know, Mia, Dad never spoke about it again. I never brought it up to him, either. But after that…he looked at me differently, which was _worse_ than him hitting me. If he’d hit me, that would’ve been it, and it would’ve been over. Y’know, Sam gave me a lot of crap, over the years, after that, for always following Dad’s orders. But he gave me an order, I didn’t listen, and I almost got Sammy killed.”

“So, it wasn’t that he was physically violent that made this incident stand out for you, Dean. It was that this was the incident where you became the obedient little soldier. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, now I need to ask, Dean. Last week, you said your father hit you, and often, and you said this was the incident where that began. But _he didn’t actually hit you, here_. So… _did_ he hit you? And, if so, when did that _really_ start?

“Let’s have that be your homework this week, Dean. I want you to think about that aspect of your relationship with your father. Think about it on your own, first, and then talk with Sam, and have him tell you what he remembers. It may not be as much, or as clear, since he was younger, but see what he says. You can journal about it, or not, as you choose.

“And then we’ll discuss this more next week. Okay?” Mia walked him to the door.

“Yeah, Mia. Okay. Thanks.” Dean left the office and walked slowly out to the Impala. Physically, he felt fine – good, actually – but emotionally, he felt like he’d been hit by a Mack truck.

 _Had_ his father hit him? How confused _were_ his memories, anyway? And what _caused_ this confusion?

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean has lots to think about.
> 
> FYI, S1E18, Something Wicked, was my basis for Dean's memory of the attack under hypnosis, to get it as close to show reality as possible. I love closed-captioning on Netflix, and being able to pause. ;)
> 
> Comments?


	7. No Such Thing As Coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the second session with Mia, Dean needs to get out of his own head a bit. A new case takes Sam and Dean back to the location of the shtriga attack. Coincidence? Dean doesn't believe in it.

“Sam?” Dean called out on his way down the iron stairs from the front door of the bunker down to the War Room. “Sam? You around?”

As he was seated at the War Room’s large conference table, Sam simply looked up and said, “Yup, right here. ‘Sup?”

“Do we have a case? Is there _anything_ going on? I need to work,” Dean said.

“Actually, we might.”

Sam tapped some keys on his laptop, and turned the screen to face Dean, as Dean took a seat next to Sam at the table.

Sam set it up: “Meet Jonah Hargrove. Mr. Hargrove lives in Minneapolis, but his job takes him all over the Midwest. This past week, he had to go to Danbury, Wisconsin, near the St. Croix State Forest. On the way there, he passed through a small town called Siren, Wisconsin, about two hours out of Minneapolis. In the middle of the day, on a perfectly normal-looking road, his car radio turned on all by itself, changed stations three times, again, all by itself, and then went to static. And then the static was interrupted by a child's voice, saying, ‘Mommy, I can't get out!’

“This startled Mr. Hargrove so much that he drove his car off the road and into a tree. Car’s totaled, but Mr. Hargrove’s fine, a few bumps and bruises, no head injuries or concussion. No history of mental illness.

“Turns out, Mr. Hargrove isn’t alone. People have been claiming that a child’s voice interrupts their car radio to say that exact phrase, at that exact spot in the road, since sometime in the late 1980s, when a family – mom, dad, young daughter – drove off the road there in a storm.

“It’s probably a pretty easy ‘salt-and-burn,’ ultimately, except that we don’t know the original family’s names, or what happened to their bodies, and it happened sometime over the course of a decade, at least thirty years ago,” Sam concluded.

“Sounds like our kinda thing. Suit up, leave in thirty? Maybe we call Jody from the road, see what she can find out for us while we’re on the road there?” Dean asked.

“Yup. On it.” Sam shut the laptop and headed to his room to collect his things, as Dean went to his room to do the same.

***

“Okay, Jody, thanks,” Sam said, and ended the call, pocketing his cell phone.

“Okay, so, Jody found a record of the tow when the family’s car was impounded after the accident, but she wasn’t able to find the names yet. She did find a date for us – May 23, 1989. She’s still poking around, trying to see if she can get access to the rest of the file, but it’s out of her jurisdiction. She’s gonna ask Donna to poke, too, as Donna’s a little closer to Wisconsin than she is. She’ll call me back if she finds anything.”

“Okay,” Dean acknowledged, keeping his eyes on the road. Then he gasped.

“ _Shit_. Sam. _That date_. You remember where we were in May 1989?”

“Dude, I was six years old in 1989. No, I don’t remember.” Sam huffed out a breath. “Why? Is it important?”

“Sammy, in May 1989, we were in Wisconsin. _On May 23, you were attacked by the shtriga_.”

“Isn’t that…?”

“The incident I’ve been journaling and talking with Mia about? Yeah. It is,” Dean nodded.

“Shit, Dean,” Sam breathed quietly. “How close were we to Siren?”

“Dunno. I don’t remember exactly where we were. It was about a three-and-half-hour drive from the motel to Pastor Jim’s, I remember that. He lived in Blue Earth, Minnesota. I think Dad actually drove almost a straight line southwest on the highway pretty much all the way there, and I think we went through Minneapolis on the way. He wanted to get there as soon as possible, and then get back.”

Sam checked Google maps. “Three-and-a-half hours back northeast, on highways, through Minneapolis….

“Dean. That puts the motel in Siren, Wisconsin. Two hundred thirty-seven miles northeast of Blue Earth, Minnesota, in almost a direct line.”

“Could be connected, Sammy.”

“Or the date could just be a coincidence, Dean,” Sam pointed out.

“Sam, since when have we ever been prone to simple coincidence?” Dean huffed out a laugh.

“Fair point. Well, we killed the shtriga back in 2005, so even if there was a connection in 1989, it shouldn’t matter now. This should still be just a ‘salt-n-burn’ case.”

“Maybe.” Dean drove faster anyway.

Dean had the route planned in his head from the many trips through the Midwest they’d made over the years. They would stop for the night about halfway to Sioux Falls, in Warnerville, Nebraska. They’d meet up with Jody, see what other information she’d been able to scrounge up for them, in Sioux Falls the next day. Then they’d continue on to Minneapolis to try to talk to Jonah Hargrove, before continuing on to Stillwater, Minnesota, where they’d stop and talk to Donna. Then they’d head to Siren.

Dean wanted to talk to Jonah Hargrove sooner, rather than later. He didn’t believe in coincidence.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist. There actually is an urban legend with the same facts as in the case (without Jonah Hargrove, he's entirely fictional) located in Siren, Wisconsin. It's a real town, and the location is as described, per Google Maps. 
> 
> Thanks for continuing to read, and for liking so far. Comments are really appreciated. :)


	8. Thinking This Much Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's lost in thought, trying to sort through long-buried memories that all blur together. What does he actually remember? What does Sam recall?

Dean stood under the hot water in the motel shower and let it batter him, his muscles slowly relaxing in the steam. Driving for four hours in the late afternoon and early evening after an intense therapy session should have relaxed him, but seemed to have only made him tense up further. He reached for the shampoo, and washed his hair, scrubbing his hands against his scalp. He leaned forward to rinse, and wiped his eyes and forehead with one hand.

_I don’t want to think about Dad._

He knew he needed to. Not only was it the homework assigned by Mia, but he knew his relationship with his father had colored every single other relationship he’d ever had.

But the things he’d learned under hypnosis and from the journaling exercise had shaken him to his core. He’d _believed_ that John had backhanded him across the face for endangering Sam, had believed it utterly and completely. But that memory had been false. John _had_ yelled at him, but hadn’t struck him. And, as he’d told Mia after she’d brought him out of hypnosis, he’d _deserved_ to be yelled at; he’d left Sammy alone for hours to go play video games. Sure, he’d only been ten years old, but he’d been more than old enough at that point to understand his responsibilities.

So, how had he come to believe that his father had abused him then? He didn’t know when or how the memory had changed from what had really happened to what he’d told Mia in their first session. And he didn’t know if or how many of his other memories might be false, as well.

_Shit._

He wasn’t looking forward to talking to Sam about this, either. Again, he knew he needed to do so. It was part of his homework, but also if more of his memories were as truly different from reality as this one had been, he was going to need Sam to confirm or deny what he recalled.

But Mia had said he needed to think about his relationship with John first, and _then_ speak to Sam. So that was a conversation that could be left to another day.

_Thank Chuck._

He turned the water off, stepped out, and started drying off with a towel. He pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, then looked in the mirror, and was a little surprised by how haggard he looked. He gripped the edges of the sink, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, staring at the drain.

_Focus, Dean. Breathe. Just breathe._

He looked back at his reflection, and was satisfied that his eyes were a little less wild. He brushed his teeth, took another deep breath, and scrubbed his fingers through his still-damp hair in one sweeping move.

He opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. “All yours, Sammy.”

Sam headed into the bathroom for his own shower. Dean got his notebook and a pen from his duffel bag and sat down at the desk. He uncapped the pen, turned to a clean page, and stared at it briefly, the blank slate somehow intimidating. And then he started to write.

***

_Tuesday evening, after second session._

_What do I really remember? I’m not sure I even know._

_I was four when Mom died, five when Dad gave up the shop to go out on the road to hunt. Sammy was still in diapers, not even talking. I should’ve been in kindergarten, but I don’t even remember when I first got to go to school. We moved around so much, stayed in so many different places that were somehow all the same, for so long, that it’s all just such a blur. One shitty motel room after another, Dad gone for days or even weeks at a time, having to be alert, watchful, on guard at all times, crap food, making sure that Sammy got something to eat, even if meant I didn’t._

_I wanted Sam to just be a kid, but that meant that I never got to be one. None of it was ever remotely Sammy’s fault, but it was so unfair. I resented that he got the food, that he got to be the normal one, that I had to be the one who always had to take care of everything, that he got to be good in school because he wasn’t worrying about how to scrounge something for dinner, while I couldn’t concentrate on classes because I was **always** worried about everything else._

_What if Dad didn’t come back this time? What if we ran out of money? What if someone noticed us and called the police, or CPS? What if I couldn’t keep Sammy fed? What if I had to go more than 2-3 days without food, and passed out or something? Who would take care of Sammy then?_

_Stress was my constant, my default setting. I hid it, for Sam’s sake, put on this laid-back, tough guy persona, but God dammit, I was just **scared**. I couldn’t let Sammy see how scared, because then he’d be afraid, too, and it’d be a giant horrible feedback loop of never-ending terror. Humor, charm, and competence became my cover._

_I’ve never told Sam that I resented him back then. I never will. I **don’t** resent him, now. Like I said, it was never his fault._

_**But it wasn’t my fault, either.** I was a toddler when Mom died. I didn’t cause her death. **I didn’t ask to be a parent from the age of four.**_

_Of that much, I’m certain. All of those memories, blurry as they may be, are real.  
_

_So, what, exactly, do I remember about **Dad?**_

_I remember him drilling me for hours, making extensive obstacle courses in empty fields and making me run them over and over. I remember him teaching me to shoot, and making me shoot at beer cans on a wall for hours. I remember him teaching me how to be quiet in the woods, how to track, stay low, keep hidden. For me, that training started at around age 6, I think. I know I could field-strip the guns by 8. I don’t remember when he started training Sam in the life, but I know Sammy was older than I had been when I started._

_I made Dad put Sammy in kindergarten when I was 9 and Sam was 5; I should’ve been in fifth grade, but I’d missed so much school they had to test me to place me, and put me in third, instead. Sammy could already read – I had been working with him on it – so after two weeks, they passed him up to first grade, and then we were both in school all day._

_What I **think** I remember is that even when Dad **was** around, he drank. And drinking made Dad either really sad and maudlin, or really mean. He was prone to fits of melancholy, where he’d want to talk to me about Mom for hours after Sammy was asleep. He’d tell me the same stories over and over, how they met, how they fell in love, blah blah blah. That was mostly after he’d been drinking beer. When he’d been drinking the hard stuff, usually whiskey, he’d go into hard-core training mode, tell me how I had to be careful at all times, couldn’t ever let my guard down, had to be tough, a soldier, a Marine like he was. He’d yell, tell me how I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, how disappointed in me he was, how I was a failure to him as a son, a constant reminder to him of Mom’s death._

_**And I remember him hitting me.** I think. I’m sure he must have. I **remember** being backhanded across the face, more than once. I **remember** being beaten with his fists. I **remember** watching as he pulled his belt off, knowing what was coming. I **remember** being whipped with it. I **remember** diverting his attention from Sammy more than once, taking a beating that otherwise would have been Sam’s. **I remember these things.** I do. I’m sure I do. _

_But I was so sure he’d hit me after the shtriga attack, that now that I know he didn’t hit me **then** , I’m questioning every memory I have of his abuse._

_Mia asked me to think about the **first time** he hit me, but I can’t track it down in my head. So, now I don’t know if it ever happened._

**_What the hell is wrong with me?_ **

***

Dean capped the pen, closed the notebook, and put both away in his duffel, then sat on the edge of the bed.

_Enough thinking for one day._

Sam came out of the bathroom, and Dean was startled to realize that no more than 20 minutes could have passed while he was writing his journal entry. It felt like he’d been writing for hours. Even though he didn’t want to think about anything, he found himself again lost in his memories, trying to sort out one motel room from another.

“Wanna call out for pizza, or go out and get burgers?” Sam asked, as he set up his laptop on the desk that Dean had just vacated.

Dean didn’t respond, lost in thought. Sam looked up, and noticed the lost expression on his brother’s face. He went over and sat next to Dean, who still didn’t respond.

“Dude, you okay?” Sam prodded, gently. When Dean still didn’t seem to hear, Sam nudged him. “Dean? Hey? You in there?”

“Oh. Yeah. Hey, Sammy. Sorry. Just kinda…lost in thought. I guess I’m a little worn out,” Dean said.

“Rough session today?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, kinda,” Dean admitted.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet, no. I will, though. In fact, talking with you about it is part of my homework this week. But I’m…I’m not there yet, Sam. I have to figure some things out for myself, first, before I talk with you.

"But let me just ask you one thing, and just answer yes or no, okay?”

“Um, sure, okay, what?”

“Did Dad…. I mean…. Shit.

"Do you remember Dad _hitting_ me?” Dean looked Sam straight in the eyes, trying to read his expression.

Sam looked a little startled. “Yeah, Dean. Of course I do.”

“More than once?”

“Well, yeah. What’s this about, Dean?” Sam looked a little confused.

“I’ll explain it later, Sam, when we talk. For right now, I…I just really can’t think about it anymore today. Okay?”

Sam nodded. “Sure, Dean. Hey, I want you to know, I appreciate that you’re really taking therapy seriously. I know it’s not easy. You wanna talk, we can talk. You wanna do something else, we can do something else. You’ve had my back my whole life, Dean. So whatever you need, man. You just let me know, and I’m there.”

“Yeah, yeah. No chick-flick moments, Sammy. Hey, let’s go out and get some grub.”

“Burgers?”

“Of course.” Dean grinned. “And pie, let us not forget.”

“As if we could.” Sam shook his head.

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They grinned at each other, and headed out to the car.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being supportive, guys. I appreciate the feedback, please keep it coming! :)


	9. You Push Hardest On The People You Love The Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean drop by the Sioux Falls police department.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the Sioux Falls police department at 12:10 by his cell phone, after a drive that morning that should have only taken two and a half hours, but, due to construction, had taken nearly four hours, instead.

Normally for a visit to the police, he and Sam would wear their Fed suits, but this was Jody; they could be more casual. Jeans, t-shirts, flannel shirts, green Army surplus jackets, boots. The usual. They got out of the car and walked toward the front door; Jody met them at the entrance.

“Hey, Jodes, been a while,” Dean greeted her, stepping into her hug. Then it was Sam’s turn.

“How are the girls, Jody?” Sam asked.

“Oh, they’re fine. Claire’s been gone for a couple of days, hunting a ghoul. She checks in every couple of hours. Alex is still working at the hospital, they’re a little short-staffed right now, so she’s been pulling doubles.” Jody steered them into her office, and shut the door.

“Were you able to find anything else on the case, Jody?” Sam asked.

“Yes, and no. I was able to get the family’s last name – _Daniels_ – but not their first names. The copy of the incident report I got was smudged, sorry. Don’t know if the original will be any better, or if it was just a problem with the scanning equipment they used when they went digital.

“I did get some more details on the accident. Seems there was quite a storm that morning. Apparently, the officer who responded to the scene thought the weather was unusual enough that he included the meteorological reports for the past couple of days with the incident report. It was late May, but the temps had been in the upper 90s for a couple of days, with one high pressure front moving down from Canada, and another moving up from the south. It was thought that there might be some twister action, but instead it just got more and more oppressively humid, until about 4:00 am, when the skies opened up, and dropped three inches of rain and sleet in just under half an hour. In all, there was about eight inches of rainfall that day, but the first thirty minutes was the worst of it. There was flash flooding, and driving in it would have been dangerous; no one would have been able to see anything three inches in front of their face. It’s no wonder the Daniels family went off the road in it; the crash occurred at about 4:20, right in the thick of the worst of it,” Jody concluded.

Just then, Jody’s cell phone went off. “Oh, that’s Claire, checking in. Excuse me one sec, guys.” She went out in the hall to take the call.

“Good to see Claire’s being better about checking in regularly,” Sam said. Dean nodded.

Jody stuck her head back in the door. “Do you guys wanna say hi to Claire?” She held out the phone, and Sam took it.

“Hey, Claire, how’s it going?” He gestured to Dean and Jody, then went out in the hall.

“So, Dean, how are you and Sam doing? He didn’t say much when he called yesterday, beyond the basic case.”

Dean looked at the floor. “Sam’s fine, Jody.”

“But _you’re_ not. What’s wrong, Dean?” Jody was one of the few people who knew Dean well enough to ask that question and get an honest answer.

“Well, it’s just…a lot’s been going on. You know about Jack and Mom.”

Jody nodded, “Yeah, and Sam told me about Rowena, Kevin, and Ketch, too. But that’s not what’s wrong with _you_ , Dean, is it?”

Dean shook his head. “Had a fight with Cas. He left. For good, I think. I hope Sam is telling Claire, because I don’t think I can talk about it with her.”

“Oh, Dean,” Jody put a sympathetic hand on Dean’s shoulder. “For the record, Cas called and talked to Claire about two weeks ago. She didn’t tell me everything he’d said, but she knows he isn’t with you and Sam.”

“It’s my fault, Jodes. I said things I shouldn’t have said, and I did what I always do. I pushed him away, and then I got drunk. The great Winchester family coping mechanism – alcohol,” Dean said bitterly. “Sammy laid down the law, made me get therapy.”

Dean caught Jody’s startled look. “Yeah, it’s okay, the therapist is in on the whole…thing. She’s not gonna think I’m delusional if I have to discuss the weird stuff. She’s not gonna lock me away, don’t worry.”

Jody huffed out a relieved breath. “Okay. Well, Dean, I hope it helps. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ve seen the last of Cas.”

“I dunno, Jody. Maybe he _is_ better off on his own. I’m pretty messed up,” Dean admitted.

“Dean, you’ve been through Hell, literally as well as figuratively. You have a _right_ to be messed up. Cas knows that. Give him some time. Let him cool off. Continue with therapy. Apologize to him for the fight, and whatever you said. And if you want him to come back, _tell him that_. Don’t make him guess what you’re thinking, Dean.” Jody poked his shoulder gently, and smiled.

Dean nodded and sighed. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Jody.”

Sam stepped back in and handed the phone to Dean. “She wants to talk to you, Dean.”

Dean took the phone, and his turn in the hallway. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Dean. Are you okay?” Claire sounded worried.

“Not really, Claire-Bear. I messed up.”

“Yeah, Cas told me a little bit, not everything, but enough. Look, Dean, he’s not mad, so neither am I. But we are worried about you.”

“Cas isn’t mad? I dunno about that, Claire. If he isn’t, he probably should be.”

“Not mad, just…a little frustrated, tired, and concerned about both you and himself. That’s what I got from him. He didn’t leave because you pissed him off, Dean. He left because he doesn’t think you need him around, and he’s tired of making mistakes.”

“And because I pushed him away.”

“Yeah, that probably didn’t help. But you do that to _everyone_ , Dean. Cas knows that. He doesn’t take _that_ personally. It’s just that…well, as much as _you_ blame him for stuff, he blames himself _more_ , D. For an angel, Cas is kinda insecure.”

“Hey, Claire?”

“Yeah?”

“Have I pushed _you_ away, hon?” Dean really wanted to know.

“Sometimes, D. But I don’t take it personally, either. I know you’ve been through some shit. I know there’s a lot I don’t know about, and probably don’t want to. I know that when you’re pushing me away, it’s just because you think you have to protect me. You push hardest on the people you love the most, Dean. I get it. I’m the same way. _You_ just need to get that we love you back.”

Dean sniffed. “Thanks, Claire. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Any time, D.”

“Be safe, kiddo.”

“You too. Bye.” Claire hung up.

Dean took a shaky breath, then stepped back into Jody’s office, and handed her back her phone.

“You guys wanna stay for dinner tonight? It’s meat loaf night, and I know Alex would love to see you both,” Jody offered.

Dean shook his head. “I want to push on through to Minneapolis today, get an early start tomorrow. But thanks, Jody.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks, Jody. Is there any construction between here and the Twin Cities that we’re likely to get stuck in?”

“No, should be clear through. You leave now, you can be there by supper time, easy,” Jody confirmed.

“Great.” Sam gave her another hug and a brief wave as he headed out to the car.

Dean stayed back a minute more.

“Jody, I… I’m s….” Jody held up her hand.

“ _Stop it_. You owe me no apologies, Dean Winchester. If you think you have something you need to make up to me, you don’t; but if you want to do something for me? Continue with therapy, _and feel better about yourself_. Okay?” She smiled at him.

“Okay. I… I can’t promise that it’ll work. But I can promise that I’ll try. And in case I haven’t said it, at all, or enough, Jody, I love you. I hope you know that.”

“I do. I love you back. Now, scoot. It’s about four hours, straight driving time, from here to Minneapolis. And I know you better than to think you’ll let Sam behind the wheel.”

“And have to listen to his emo music? Hell, no.” Dean grinned. “Bye, Jodes. We’ll call you.”

“You better. Bye.” Jody sat at her desk and watched Dean walk out to the Impala, his step a little lighter now than it had been on the way in.

She nodded, satisfied, and got back to work.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: the Daniels family, and the storm as described, are entirely fictional. The urban legend on which I based the case doesn't mention the family's name.
> 
> I hope you're all still enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. :) Thanks for reading!


	10. Yeah, No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes another journal entry, then talks with Sam.

They’d stopped briefly for lunch, and once for gas, but made it to Minneapolis by 6:00.

“Do you want to try to find Hargrove’s place tonight, or tomorrow, Dean?” Sam asked.

“Let’s wait. Let’s find a motel, get cleaned up, and get some grub tonight, then get an early start in the morning. We can talk to Hargrove, then head up to Stillwater to see Donna, and then decide if we want to continue on to Siren tomorrow, or wait until Friday for that.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam agreed.

Sam found a motel on one of the apps on his phone and gave Dean directions. They checked in and Sam claimed first shower, heading quickly to the bathroom. Dean pulled his notebook and pen out of his duffel and sat down at the desk.

***

_Wednesday afternoon_

_It’s odd, but I’m finding journaling to be soothing. I didn’t think I’d like it. I thought it would be more like work. But instead, it’s a little liberating. I can write anything, because it’s only for me, unless it’s something Mia asked me to write and will want to see. Even then, I trust Mia not to judge me for what I put on the page; yesterday’s session proved that I could. She noted the memory shifts from entry to entry, but she did that to help me, and didn’t pass judgment on me at all. It helped._

_I asked Sam if he remembered Dad hitting me, and his response was immediate - “Yeah, Dean. Of course I do.” On the one hand, that’s comforting, because it comports with my memories that Dad hit me. On the other hand, it’s disturbing, because I had thought I had been successful in protecting Sammy from the knowledge of Dad’s abuse of me._

_I didn’t ask him if Dad had ever hit **him**. Maybe I should. If I wasn’t successful in protecting him from the knowledge that Dad was hitting me, maybe I wasn’t as successful as I thought at protecting him from being hit himself. **Shit**._

_I suppose it was inevitable that Sammy would have seen Dad hitting me. It’s not like there was a lot of space or a separate room to go into, where he wouldn’t hear when Dad started yelling or landing blows. Being hit with a belt isn’t exactly a silent thing, and it’s not like Dad ever tried to be quiet about it._

_I was the one who had to try to be quiet, after. I didn’t want Sammy to hear me crying. It would have upset him. Didn’t want Dad to hear, either. “Boys don’t cry. Suck it up.” How many times did I hear that, over the years?_

_I still can’t pinpoint when Dad first hit me. When did everything become such a fucking **blur**? Seems like my whole life is just this kaleidoscope of overlapping imagery, and when I try to focus on just one thing, it all shifts._

_I mean, I remember Hell. I remember every **second** of Hell. And **since** Hell, that’s all pretty clear. But before I went?_

_Certain things stand out:_

_\- Sam collapsing in my arms after Jake stabbed him in the back._

_\- Dad flatlining and the Colt being missing._

_\- Sam going in to kill Madison, tears streaming down his face._

_\- Sam and Dad hugging in Chicago._

_\- Bursting into Sam’s apartment, the ceiling – and Jess – on fire._

_\- Sam introducing me to Jess._

_\- Sam and Dad arguing over Sam going to Stanford, Sam walking out, and Dad telling him that if he left, not to come back._

_\- Dad coming back for me, after leaving me at Sonny’s for almost three months. Not wanting to leave when he finally came back for me, but looking out the window and seeing Sammy in the back of the Impala, and knowing I **had** to, for his sake._

_\- The shtriga attack, now that I remember it correctly, but even that was kind of blurry before Mia hypnotized me._

_\- The fire starting, and taking Sammy outside._

_But all the rest? It all just blends together in a haze._

_If I can remember clearly back to Hell, and I remember being in Hell **very** clearly, why can’t I remember clearly what happened **before** Hell?_

_Maybe something happened to my memories in Hell?_

_Or when a certain angel pulled me out…._

_When Cas pulled Sam out of the Cage, he had to leave Sam’s soul behind; Death had to go back for it, later. But I thought that had to do with the Cage, itself, not Hell generally. I don’t recall Cas ever mentioning a problem with my soul, and he would have. Wouldn’t he?_

_And now I **really** wish I could talk to Cas._

_Well, I can’t. But I **can** talk to Sam. Mia told me to, after I’d tried to remember things myself. Well, I’ve tried, and I can’t get it clear on my own. So, next step, Sammy. He did say he wanted to help._

***

Dean put the pen down and closed the notebook. He was still sitting at the desk, staring into space, when Sam came out of the bathroom a few moments later, towel-drying his hair.

“Bathroom’s yours, Dean.”

Dean blinked. “Right, bathroom. Thanks, Sam.” He put the notebook and pen back in the duffel and got out some clothes, then headed in to take his own shower.

***

They had dinner in a quiet diner. Sam could tell Dean was a little nerved up about something, but didn’t push. He wanted to be supportive, but Dean had said he had things he had to work through on his own, and Sam trusted that when Dean was ready to talk, he would. So, Sam kept the conversation light, and munched on his salad, while Dean ate his chicken parm. After they ate, Dean seemed in no hurry to leave, so Sam ordered a cup of hot tea. After the waitress dropped it off, Dean leaned back and drummed his fingers on the table absently, and Sam knew that Dean was gathering his thoughts. Sam kept quiet, and sipped his tea slowly to let Dean think. And then….

“Hey, Sam?”

Sam put the mug down. He knew Dean’s signals, and this one meant a serious talk was coming.

“Yeah?” Sam waited.

“I’m having some trouble with…well, with remembering certain things clearly. Things from when we were growing up, up through when I went to Hell. Hell, and after, that’s all clear as a bell. But before that, I have these odd…memory shifts, where I think I remember something, but if I try to focus on it, the memory changes slightly. Certain things stand out, but those are a little few and far between. Everything just kind of blurs together in my head, and I’m having trouble sorting through memories and figuring out what’s real and solid, on the one hand, and what’s shifty and changing, on the other.

"In our session yesterday, Mia hypnotized me, and I got back solid details of the shtriga attack, which I hadn’t really remembered properly before that. And what changed, from the ‘shifty’ memory that I’d had, to the solid memory I have now, was that in the ‘shifty’ memory, Dad hauled off and backhanded me across the face. Turns out, that didn’t really happen. So….” Dean’s voice trailed off for a second.

Then, he continued, “Mia’s homework for me this week was to try to pin down the first time Dad hit me, and I – I can’t do it, Sam. I have memories of Dad hitting me, _beating_ me, even. But I can’t pinpoint any of it with any certainty, can’t remotely place the first time it happened, and so, now, I don’t know if any of that was ever real.

"Mia said I should try to work through it on my own, first, but then I should talk to you, and see what you remember.

"You said you remembered Dad hitting me, when I asked you yesterday. So, now, I’m asking…what, exactly, do you remember about it?”

Sam blinked.

“Dean…wow. Um. Wow. Okay. When I said yesterday that I remembered Dad hitting you, I meant like a cuff on the back of the head kind of thing, or during training, teaching you how to fight. Not an abusive, backhanding you or beating you, kind of thing. No. Not even drunk. I mean, I guess it _could have_ happened, but I would have had to have been pretty oblivious not to notice something like that at some point.

"Dad _neglected_ us, he was a _drunk_ , he was hard on you, he put _way_ too much responsibility on you, and he _definitely_ favored me over you, and all of that was wrong.

"But… _beating_ you? No. No, Dean, I don’t…I don’t think that happened.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, kids, any guesses about where the 'shifty' memories came from, and why everything prior to Hell is so blurry for poor Dean? ;)
> 
> As I've said, comments are life. Thanks! :)


	11. Did You Forget About Dean’s Thirty Years On The Rack? Seems Dean May Have...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes off. Sam leaves voice mail. Claire gets a visit. Sam gets an explanation.

Dean dropped Sam back at the motel, but didn’t get out of the car himself; once Sam was on the pavement and the door was closed, Dean drove off. Dean hadn’t said a word since asking Sam about his memories. After Sam had answered the question, Dean had just stood up, dropped a couple of twenties on the table, and stalked off.

Sam could guess where he was going now.

_Shit. He was doing really well._

Sam pushed the motel room door open and wearily stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He took a look at his phone, saw there were no new messages, and started to set it aside. He thought better of it, and dialed a number, instead. Voice mail.

“Hey. It’s me. Again. Please call me back. It’s about Dean. I – I think it’s important. Please…anyway, um, okay. Call me.” He clicked to disconnect, and set the phone down.

He sat down on the edge of one of the beds, and sighed.

_And here I’d thought it was exhausting dealing with their unresolved issues when they were around each other. Having them be apart is worse. Who knew?_

***

Claire had bagged the ghoul and was now returning to her own motel room with a pizza and a six-pack of diet Coke. She set her dinner down on the bed, and went in to take a quick shower, whistling cheerfully. She was normally a morning shower kind of girl, but she did just a quick rinse-off-the-ghoul-grime with barely-warm water – she was _hungry!_ – and hopped out, toweled dry, and got quickly into warm flannel pjs. She came out of the bathroom…and stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping, hand to her chest.

“ _Da_ …I mean, _Cas!_ You _startled_ me!”

“Sorry, Claire.” Cas smiled hesitantly. “I should’ve called first.”

“No, it’s fine, Cas,” she assured him. “I just wasn’t expecting _anyone_ to be here, ‘s’all. But I’m glad to see you. Are you okay?” She peered at him intently.

“Getting there.” The angel’s smile grew broader as his late vessel’s daughter stepped forward to give him a hug. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Hush. I mean it, I’m glad to see you.” She smiled up at him, stepped back, and gestured to one bed as she sat on the other. “There’s pizza, if you’re hungry. I’m starving, so I hope you don’t mind….”

“Eat. I’m fine, thanks,” he declined the offer of food, but sat down across from her. He watched as she opened the pizza box and bit into a slice, eyes closing as the melty cheese hit her taste buds.

“God, that’s good. Mmm. Oh, hey, I talked to Sam and Dean today,” she told him.

“Oh.”

“Just on the phone, they’re not _here_. They were in Sioux Falls with Jody, on the way to…Wisconsin? I think? For a case. I don’t really have the deets. Sam sounded okay. I told Dean you weren’t mad, and he sounded kinda doubtful. He said he’d messed up,” she told him. And then she looked up and saw his face.

“Oh. Cas, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I’ll talk about something else. _I’ll shut up_. Tell me what to do. Cas? Cas? Say _something_?” she begged, honestly worried, as it looked like he was shutting down right in front of her.

He nodded at her and waved his hand a little, trying to indicate that he was okay, but she slid off the bed and came and knelt down in front of him, taking his hand and kind of petting it gently.

“Cas? What can I do? Talk to me, Cas, please? You’re scaring me. I’ve seen you pale, but never _this_ pale, you look like you have no blood at all, like a vamp got you or something. C’mon, Cas, talk to me.”

“I-I’m okay, Claire. I’m sorry. I should…go. I-I’ll call you, first, next time.” He stood up, and so did she.

And then he was gone.

Claire huffed out a breath, and went to call Sam.

***

_“…and then he just…poofed, Sam. So I thought I’d better call you.”_

“Okay. Thanks, Claire. Don’t worry, you know how they get.” Sam shook his head. “You better get some sleep, kiddo, you’ve got a drive ahead of you tomorrow. Oregon to South Dakota’s a hike. Drive safe, okay?”

_“Yeah, I will, Sam. G’night.”_

“Night.” Sam ended the call and set his phone down.

He went to the window and glanced out at the parking lot. No sign of the Impala. He sighed.

_What did you expect, Sam? Bar close isn’t for another three hours. If he comes back, then.  
_

He sat down at the desk and opened the laptop. He opened the _Words With Friends_ app, and he played a couple of turns, but he wasn’t really into it.

He stared at the cell phone for a few moments. He closed his eyes and sighed. He opened his eyes, and picked up the phone, and dialed. Voice mail.

“Hey. It’s me. Again. Claire called. She’s worried. So am I. Please call me back.” He clicked to disconnect, and set the phone down.

He went to brush his teeth.

And from behind him, heard a soft, “Hello, Sam.”

He spit into the sink, wiped his mouth, and turned. “Cas.”

“I can’t stay long. I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just….”

Sam cut him off by crossing to him and hugging him. “I get it, Cas.”

Sam let go, and stepped back, smiling cautiously. “I was worried about you when you didn’t respond, but I get it. You need space.”

Castiel nodded. “I did. I do. It’s not forever, I promise.”

“Okay, Cas,” Sam nodded. “But quick, before you go, I gotta ask you something, and I’m sorry, it’s about Dean, and I get that he’s not your favorite person right this minute, but….”

“Sam, I-I…”

“No, I get it, Cas, and it’s not _that_. But when you left, I made him tell me what happened, and then I made him get therapy. And, apparently, he discovered that his memories of his life before he went to Hell are messed up, somehow. Do you know anything about that, Cas? Because it’s kinda screwing with his head.”

“Oh.” Cas blushed faintly, and frowned. “Um. Yes. Dean has _at least_ two sets of memories for most of his life prior to going to Hell, and for some of his time in Hell, as well. Of some events, _more_ than two.”

Sam blinked, startled. “Why would he…. Did you…?”

“Not me. I tried to _fix_ it.

“Sam, you have to understand. When I pulled Dean out of the pit, in order to resurrect him, I had to rebuild him. From scratch. Not just physically, but mentally.

“Alastair had Dean on the rack for _thirty years_ before Dean gave in, and he didn’t just _torture_ Dean, _he literally **scrambled** him_. He didn’t just _tear him apart_ , he also _built him back up_ , giving him alternative memories for many of the events of his life to that point. Every single day for thirty years, Alastair stripped Dean of his skin, his life, _his entire psyche_. And every day, just before making the offer to which Dean eventually tumbled, to get off the rack and become a torturer himself, Alastair would build Dean back up, each time with new additions that Dean would never have noticed.

“I didn’t have years to undo the damage; _I had a matter of minutes_. I had to sort through the various sets of memories as best I could in the time I had. Some of them were clearly false memories, and I discarded those. Others, well, it wasn’t as clear what was real, and what was not, and I couldn’t put _any_ of the various alternatives aside. I might suspect that one memory was real and another not, but if I wasn’t absolutely _sure_ , I didn’t want to do more damage by destroying something that might have been real. I didn’t think that was my decision to make.

“So, Dean retains both the real and the alternative sets of memories for many events of his past. Under hypnosis, the _real_ memory of a particular event would emerge, but depending on how much time Alastair spent setting up a particular alternative memory, Dean may well believe that a fake memory is absolutely true.

“I’m quite sure that Dean believes that he remembers everything that happened to him when he was in Hell, but I assure you, he does _not_ , and he’s better off.” Cas made a face that told Sam not to ask.

Sam drew a shaky breath. “Okay, so let’s say there was a particular event from Dean’s past, like, say, my first day of school. It’s possible that Dean has more than one memory of getting me ready that morning? Like, one where he made me a lunch, and one where he didn’t?”

Cas nodded.

“And if, say, Dad was disappointed in Dean for some reason. It’s possible that Dean might remember that Dad spoke sharply to him, but might also remember a false memory of Dad hitting him?” Sam asked.

Cas nodded again. “Not just possible, Sam. _Likely_. Remember, Alastair _wanted_ Dean to take the deal and become a torturer. He would have considered adding false memories of physical abuse to be _helpful_ toward that goal. And they may well have been.

“And when I was sorting through Dean’s memories, well, I never met John, Sam. I didn’t know if he had physically abused Dean, or not. Every memory Dean had showed _at least_ a pattern of neglect at a level that certainly constituted abuse. I couldn’t take the risk of being _wrong_ and deleting something real, so I left nearly _everything_. The only memories I deleted were ones that were _obviously_ fake because they were incomplete, or Alastair didn’t take enough time and got details wrong, like purple grass, or a red sky. That didn’t happen much, but Alastair rushed sometimes.”

Sam nodded his understanding. “Thanks for explaining, Cas. It makes what Dean’s going through a little easier to understand.”

Cas smiled, a little sadly.

“Hey, Cas? Not your fault. _Alastair_ screwed with Dean’s head. You did the best you could.”

Cas nodded. “But once again, Sam, my best wasn’t nearly good enough.” He sighed. “I need to go. If you need me, call. I promise to be better about picking up, Sam.”

“Can I ask where you’re staying, Cas? You do have a place, right?” Sam’s sincere concern warmed the angel’s heart a little.

“Yes, I have a rented cabin, Sam. I rented it for three months. Like I said, I will come back. I just need some time to think, Sam. But I appreciate the concern.”

“Take all the time you need, but just know – you’re _family_ , Cas. And, for the record, Dean insisted to me, the next afternoon, after he’d slept off his hangover, that he’d never intended for you to leave. He said it was your choice,” Sam told him.

“Well, it was, but it wasn’t one I wanted to make, Sam.”

“Well, so, your room is still _your room_. The bunker is still your _home_. Your stuff is all still there, and it will be when you get back.”

Cas nodded. And then he was gone. Sam sighed.

_At least I can say that my life is never dull._

Sam changed into a pair of sleep pants, and laid down to go to sleep.

_I’ll wake up when Dean comes in. I can tell him then._

He was asleep before his hair hit the pillow.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't guess that, I did give a hint earlier in the story, in the bit with Cas at the National Park, when he remembers the first time he spoke to Dean. Ah, foreshadowing. ;)
> 
> Please, please comment! :)


	12. Victim-Shaming Headspace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's all about victim-shaming himself and being angsty. Sam's not having it.
> 
> ***
> 
> TW for victim-shaming. This one could be difficult for abuse/rape victims, though I tried to make it as positive as I could - so if you're not up for it, skip it. If you think it might hurt, don't do it. FWIW, I'm a rape survivor myself, so drop me a line if you want to talk. :)

Sam was awakened by the quiet sound of the motel room door being unlocked. Dean entered quietly, closed the door quietly, set his keys down quietly. He sat down on the other bed quietly. He took a quiet minute to collect his thoughts. Then….

“Sam?” he asked, still very quietly.

“Yeah, Dean?” Sam responded, his own voice also hushed.

“I didn’t drink.” Dean’s voice was very small. “I thought about it, but I didn’t. I went for a drive, instead. I just needed to be on my own for a bit, but I shouldn’t have just driven off. While I was gone, I realized that it would have worried you, my just taking off like that. How I’d have felt, in your shoes. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’m supposed to be the one who takes care of you, but I’ve been fucking everything up, and making _you_ take care of _me_. I-I’m s-sorry….”

Sam slid out of his bed and sat down next to Dean on his, putting his arm around his older brother’s shoulders. “Hey, Dean, it’s okay. It’s not about you taking care of me anymore, Dean. C’mon, now, I’m not a little kid who can’t do anything on my own. I haven’t been for quite a while now. We’re supposed to take care of _each other_ now, man.” Sam huffed out a breath.

“Did you think I was gonna be mad at you, Dean? For what? _Being human? Having emotions?_ That was _Dad’s_ hang up, it isn’t mine.”

Dean sighed softly. “I know. I just.... Thank you, Sam.”

“For what?”

“Making me get help. I couldn’t even see all the damage I was doing, Sam. To myself, to you, to Cas. I’m so screwed up, man. I mean, I knew I had issues, but seriously, dude, I’m…. Sam, I’m _broken_ , more than I knew. I can’t even sort through my own memories. Every time I try to focus on a specific event, except for a very few that were important and stand out, I can’t do it. I start going through what I remember happening, and it all changes on me.”

“Changes…how, exactly?” Sam asked.

“Sam, I went through eight versions of the shtriga attack, one with Mia in our first session, and seven more in my journal, that were all, each and every one of them, _off_. In our second session, Mia hypnotized me, and now I have the details of the real event, solid in my head, and I can see how wrong the other versions were. Similar, but just… _off, tainted_. But before Mia pointed the changes out to me, Sam, I was convinced that I had written the exact same thing in my journal each time. I couldn’t see the differences from entry to entry _until she noted them_ in red ink.

“I was thinking, earlier before we went to dinner, and then while I was driving, and the only thing that makes any sense to me is that somehow, something got scrambled in my brain when I was in Hell. Because I remember everything since Hell just fine. It’s only my memories from _before_ I went that are so fucked up.”

Sam bit his lip and considered whether or not he should tell Dean that Cas had been there.

_Honesty’s the best policy._

“Dean, Cas was here earlier.”

Dean looked up. “He was?”

“Yeah. Dean, your memories being messed up? I asked Cas if he knew anything about it.”

“What’d he say?” Dean looked suspicious.

“Cas told me that every day of the thirty years that Alastair had you on the rack, Alastair not only tore you apart, he built you back up. When he did, he added in false memories of Dad’s physical abuse of you, and other things, that made you more and more inclined to take the deal he offered you.

“Cas tried to fix the accumulated damage, but he only had a few minutes in which to rebuild you, between pulling you out of the pit and resurrecting you. He could only discard memories that were _obviously_ false, because they were incomplete, or details were wrong because Alastair had rushed when creating the fake. Taking away a complete memory where the details seemed right, well, that might have taken away a _real_ memory, which would have done even more damage to you, and Cas couldn’t risk that. He said you have at least two memories of most events, and for some events there might be more.”

Sam had a sudden realization. “Dean, do you remember when you told me about Hell? You felt terrible, because you’d given in to Alastair’s offer in order to be able to get down off the rack. But Dean, this means _it wasn’t you_ , not the _real_ you, that gave in. It took having a false history of a lifetime of physical abuse implanted in you to make you conducive to agreeing to torture others. _You would have held out_ , but for that.

“Dean, _you weren’t to blame_.”

“Yeah, I was, Sammy. I still made the choice,” Dean insisted

“But it was a choice you’d been conditioned by Alastair to make. Dean, you were twenty-nine when you went to Hell. You had twenty-nine years of memories that, at that point, conditioned you to _not_ accept the deal. It took Alastair _thirty_ years of reprogramming you to get you to take it. _You were on the rack longer than you had been alive!_ By the time you agreed, you weren’t _you_ anymore, Dean. **_It wasn’t your fault_**.”

Dean shook his head, stubbornly. But somewhere, deep in his wounded psyche, a tiny shimmer of light was born.

***

The next morning, Sam didn’t bother to wake Dean. He went for a run, then stopped and got breakfast and coffee for them both at the cafe next to the motel. When he got back to the room, Dean was still sleeping. Sam let him sleep and went into the bathroom to take his shower and get dressed. He came out, toweling his hair.

“You have a point, Sam,” he heard Dean say. Sam peered out from under the towel. Dean was still lying in bed, but was now staring up at the ceiling, hands behind his head. “But your point almost makes things _worse_.”

“How’s that, Dean?” Sam tossed the towel onto his bed, and sat down at the desk.

“Assuming you’re right, that Alastair reprogrammed me to be a torturer, and Cas couldn’t undo all the damage…. Then I’m still the person who took the deal. I’m still the person who tortured souls and enjoyed it. The Dean who existed before I went to Hell _wasn’t_ to blame, maybe you’re right about that. But _I’m_ not that old Dean. _I’m_ the Dean who took the deal, Sam. And _that_ Dean, the Dean of Alastair’s creation, **_is_ **to blame.”

“No. That’s not right, either, Dean.” Sam’s voice was steady. Dean wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking this through.

“No, Sammy? Why not?”

“Because the Dean that you are now, the 'Dean of Alastair’s creation' as you put it, was still _under duress._ You don’t blame someone for doing something under duress that they wouldn’t normally do. _You_ weren’t at fault, Dean. _Alastair was_. Period.

“You did what you _had_ to do, Dean. What Alastair _forced_ you to do. It wasn’t a choice made of your own free will. It was a choice that even ‘this you’ would _not_ have made, absent that coercion.”

“Fact remains, Sammy. I _did_ take the deal. I _did_ torture others. I _did_ enjoy it. And that’s still ‘this me,’ as you put it. You said yourself, Cas couldn’t fix the damage that was done. The Dean that he brought back from Hell wasn’t the Dean who went down.”

“Well, of course not, Dean. _You went through Hell_. You were _never_ going to be the ‘Dean who went down' afterward. I’m just saying, you taking the deal wasn’t really a _choice_ , Dean. You torturing others, that wasn’t a _choice_. _And none of it was your fault. **It never was.**_

“You don’t _choose_ to be raped, and _you don’t blame the victim_. Ease up on yourself, man.

“Now, come eat. Food’s gonna get cold.”

***

They found Jonah Hargrove outside, mowing his front lawn. Dean let Sam do most of the interview. He knew that his mind was wandering too much, and, besides, Hargrove didn’t seem to have anything to add to what he’d already told the newspapers.

“Thank you, Mr. Hargrove. We appreciate your time.” Sam concluded the interview and they went back to the car.

As they were fastening their seat belts, Sam snuck a glance at Dean. He could tell his brother was still chewing over what they’d discussed. He was on the verge of suggesting skipping the visit to Donna, as she was unlikely to have much in the way of useful information to add to what Jody had already told them, unless she had a cleaner copy of the incident report and could give them the Daniels family’s first names, and they could get that in Siren, anyway. But then he thought that maybe seeing Donna, who was always so cheerful, might help Dean to get out of the victim-blaming headspace he seemed to be stuck in currently. Good enough reason to stop in, and Stillwater was on the way.

So, instead, he just said, “On to Donna, next, then?”

Dean nodded. “Let’s see if we can get her to let us take her out to lunch. She’s always so down on herself about needing to diet. I don’t see anything wrong with the way Donna looks.” He started the engine and put Baby in gear.

Sam wondered if Dean even realized the slight irony of the connection between his criticism of Donna’s tendency to fat-shame herself, on the one hand, and his own tendency to victim-shame himself, on the other. Probably not, but it might be a useful metaphor later, so Sam made a mental note of it.

Aloud, he simply said, “Sounds good.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's always harder on himself than he would ever be on anyone else. Sam's right, though, Dean had no choice and was under duress. Eventually, Dean'll see that. I'll make sure of it... ;)
> 
> Please comment? Please? *whimper* ;)


	13. Flayed Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch with Donna.

They had already been wearing their Fed suits for the Hargrove interview, and saw no reason to change. Dean drove straight to the Stillwater County Sheriff’s Office, pulled the Impala into an open spot outside, and parked. They got out and walked inside.

Dean nodded a greeting to a guy he vaguely remembered meeting on a past visit, only to realize, too late, that it was Donna’s ex-husband, Doug Kontos.

Dean turned and murmured to Sam, “Shit. I thought Doug-the-ex worked in a different county?”

Sam glanced over, saw Doug, and murmured, “He’s coming this way. I’ll head him off, you go find Donna.”

“On it.”

Sam walked toward Doug, hand outstretched for a shake, as Dean edged in the other direction, looking for Donna’s office. He saw her through the clear glass window in the door of her office, eating a carrot stick, and looking despondent.

Dean pushed the office door open. “Put. The. Rabbit. Food. Down.” He growled, then winked as Donna looked up, startled.

“Ooh, Dean! Ya caught me snackin’!” she exclaimed, jumping up and moving around her desk quickly to pull him into a hug, which he returned.

“C’mon, Sheriff. You’re comin’ with us, we’re goin’ to lunch, and will brook no argument!” he told her.

“Oh, I dunno, Dean, I was just gonna work through….” she started to explain. Dean cut her off.

“Nope. Not today, Donna. We’re taking you _out_. C’mon, we insist. We can talk shop, if you _really_ need to feel like you’re working,” he wheedled.

“Oofta. Well, if I must, I must,” Donna smiled as she gave in, but Dean could see it didn't quite reach her eyes.

“Okay. Now, let me check if the coast is clear, or if we have to rescue Sammy.” Dean peered back out into the lobby, and saw that Doug was working at a file cabinet at the back of the room, his back to them, and Sam was nowhere to be seen. “Okay, we gotta make a break for it, Sheriff! Let’s hightail it outta here!”

Donna chuckled quietly, but followed Dean’s lead as they “snuck out” through the crowded lobby, in plain view of everyone but Doug, who had his back to them.

As Dean had expected, Sam was leaning back against the Impala, waiting for them.

***

Donna dipped her fork into the small plastic cup of ranch salad dressing, then speared a couple of leaves of lettuce from her garden salad, and popped it in her mouth, chewing slowly, her eyes down. As she repeated the process, Dean paused between bites of his bacon double cheeseburger to exchange a look with Sam, who was eating a chef salad, and who had put his dressing directly into the salad bowl. Both of them knew the dressing-on-the-fork thing was a dieter's trick to reduce caloric intake while still getting some flavor. They also knew it meant it was likely that Doug had said or done _something_ to make Donna feel insecure. _Again_.

“So, boys, Jody told me about your case, and asked me to poke around some. I spoke with her this morning, so I know what she told you, and, unfortunately, I can’t tell you any more. The digital copy of the incident report is smudged where the family’s first names were typed in on the form. Can’t tell if it’s on the original, or if it was a problem with the scanner when the Siren PD went digital. You can check on that when you get to Siren; I don’t have any contacts in that neck of the woods, or I’da put in a call for ya,” Donna told them.

“Okay, thanks for looking, Donna,” Sam told her.

“Yeah, we appreciate it.” Dean leaned back in the booth and studied Donna. “So, Doug’s in town. You okay with that?”

“Oh, that. It’s just for today. He’s doing some research, needed some information in our files that hasn’t been digitized yet due to budget constraints. No biggie.” Donna flushed a little, and didn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Donna? Do I need to kill him, sweetheart? What’d he say?” Dean pushed a little.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Donna tried to insist, but it was clear to both Sam and Dean that _that_ was a lie.

Sam reached across the table and took Donna’s hand in his. “Hey, Donna. It’s _us_.”

Donna took a deep breath, and shot Sam a quick grateful smile. “He brought _doughnuts_.”

Dean rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming.

“He’s _right_ , I _do_ need to lose weight. I shouldn’t be eating those,” Donna tried to excuse her ex.

“If he didn’t think you should be _eating_ them, he shouldn’t have _brought_ them,” Dean told her. **_“What. Did. He. Say?”_**

“I had taken a bite of a doughnut and I guess I had some powdered sugar on my chin. And – and Doug stepped over, framed my face with his hands, and carefully wiped it off with his thumb, and I thought for a second that he was gonna kiss me. I thought maybe he was tryin’ to be nice, like way back when we first met.

"But – but then he said I was gonna need to start takin’ meds for Type II diabetes if I couldn’t get my weight down, and I shouldn’t be eating so much sugar. In that **_voice_** , y’know? Where the _words_ seem like he’s concerned, but the _tone_ is so biting that all it can _possibly_ be is criticism. And just for a moment, he got this really nasty look in his eye, like he could _tell_ that he’d hurt me and he was _glad_ of it. And then he just turned away and went back to work.” Donna’s voice trembled, and she kept her eyes down.

“What a _jerk_.” Dean huffed. “Donna, has a _doctor_ ever told you that you needed to lose weight, or that you were in _any_ danger of becoming diabetic? Has _anyone_ , other than Doug?”

“N-no.”

“Then you don’t need to lose weight. _You look great_. Doug’s an idiot, and a bully. I’m not sure what you ever saw in him, or why you married him, and leaving him’s the _best_ thing you ever did. You’re _so_ better off without his _bullshit_. That’s all it is, and you shouldn’t be hurt by it, _because you know damn well **it isn’t true**_.” Dean slid out of the booth.

“Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He marched irritably off toward the restrooms, leaving Donna with a stunned look on her face.

“Well, _he’s_ in a mood,” she said to Sam.

“Yeah, he is. Mind you, he isn’t _wrong_ , Donna. You _do_ look great,” Sam told her.

“You boys are good for my ego.” Donna blushed a little. She looked up at Sam, sympathetic concern for Dean on her face.

“Is Dean gonna be okay, Sam? When Jody called, she mentioned that something was up, that he and Cas had a dust-up a while back. I can't even picture Dean and Cas in a snit with each other.”

“Yeah. They did, and yeah, he will be fine, eventually. He’s just got some things he needs to work through. Don’t worry,” Sam patted her hand gently.

***

In the men’s room, Dean washed his hands and face, then looked in the mirror. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

_Breathe, Dean._

He knew he’d overreacted, but he _hated_ seeing Donna feeling so insecure, when she was normally such a sunny person. She was one of his _favorite_ people, in fact. As long as he’d known her, her weight – and Doug-the-douchnozzle’s issues with it – had been the one problem she couldn’t shake.

And it was _ridiculous_. In his mind, it wasn’t even a _problem_ , and he couldn’t understand her insistence on believing that it was one, just because her jerk of an ex-husband kept bringing it up.

_I meant what I said. Donna looks great, and Doug’s an idiotic bully._

He just shouldn’t have been so…emphatic about it.

_Now, she’ll have a **complex** about me snapping at her about her insecurity, and I have to apologize, and it’s **a thing** , and just…ugh. **Shit**._

And then Sam would start in on him, he just knew it was coming.

_He’ll say something about how **ironic** it is that I won’t allow Donna to fat-shame herself, while I feel free to victim-blame myself. **Not** the same thing, dammit._

Dean supposed he should probably journal about that. Mia would probably be interested in the comparison, even if he didn’t believe it was valid.

He just didn’t want to have the conversation with _Sam_. Sam was going to continue to insist that he wasn’t to blame, but Dean knew the truth. He wasn’t some shy naïve innocent. He’d been a torturer of souls by his own choice, and he’d _enjoyed_ it. And he’d enjoyed being a demon, too, when the Mark had turned him. And sometimes what he saw as Sammy’s sweetly blind faith in him got on his last good nerve.

Well, his last _rebuilt_ nerve, to be honest. Alastair hadn’t really left him any _good_ nerves. They’d _all_ been flayed at one point or another.

_But that’s not the point._

Ah, but Sam would try to _make_ it the point. _Again_.

_Maybe I can at least convince him to hold off on discussing it until…._

Until _when_? He knew Sam wouldn’t wait until they’d returned to the bunker, after the case. He almost certainly wouldn’t last until the drive back, even. If Dean was _lucky_ , he might get Sam to wait until at least after dinner. But Dean already knew Sam would certainly be _after_ him to talk about it at some point.

_Although...maybe not. Sam’s actually been really supportive. He **knows** I’m taking therapy seriously. He **knows** I haven’t been drinking. If I **ask** him to let me work through it on my own until I come to him, he **might** just back off, for once._

Dean looked at himself in the mirror again. He could see for himself that he looked tired, so saying that he needed to think on his own for a bit might actually work. Being emotionally responsible, the way he’d been trying to be in the past couple of weeks, might have an upside, after all.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up until this chapter, this story wrote itself. This one was hard to get through, for me. It's really hard to be mean to Donna!
> 
> To clarify, since Donna's been with two guys named Doug - this is the FIRST Doug, her ex-husband. He's the reason she went to the spa where Sam and Dean first met her. He was only in, I think, 1 episode, at the law enforcement convention where Donna met Jody the first time. He was always a jerk.
> 
> Comments? Do I need to beg? Because I can, but... *sniffle* please don't make me. :)


	14. Stick To Your Guns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas continues talking with the park ranger. Dean apologizes to Donna.

Cas leaned back against what he’d taken to calling ‘the sunning stone’ and took a deep breath, watching the way the breeze played over the water of the lake. He let his mind drift a bit, avoiding, for the moment, all the things he knew he was going to have to start thinking about again soon. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of the sun, warm on his face.

He felt her presence before he heard her coming up the trail.

“Hello, Kathy.” He opened his eyes, and smiled at the park ranger.

“Hey, Cas.” She smiled back.

He gestured to indicate to her that her “seat” on the rock was available, and she moved to it and sat down next to him, leaning back against the rock companionably.

“Where’d I leave off yesterday?” he asked.

“You were in Heaven with Jack and Kelly, and had just made a deal with the Cosmic Entity from the Empty,” Kathy reminded him.

“Right.” Cas glanced over at the ranger. “You’re just humoring me, aren’t you, _pretending_ to believe me?”

“I believe that _you_ believe it, Cas. And it’s a good story, you tell it well. I’d like to hear the rest.”

“Even if you don’t believe it?”

“Cas, whether _I_ believe or don’t believe is irrelevant. What matters is that you were in a lot of pain when you came here, and telling me your story seems to be helping with that. I don’t have to believe that it’s gospel truth. As I said, it’s a good story, so I’m enjoying listening to you tell it. If it doesn’t hurt me, and helps you, I think that’s enough reason to tell your tale. But you don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to. This is a nice spot to sit on a nice day. There’s a nice, good-looking man sitting here with me, which is a plus. The good story’s just an added bonus.” Kathy smiled quietly, and waited.

“I went to visit Claire,” Cas told her, after a moment.

“Claire…? Oh, right, the daughter of Jimmy, the guy who became your vessel, who was also briefly your vessel. I remember. When’d you go see her?”

“Last night. She was in Oregon.”

“You went to Oregon and back last night?”

“To Oregon, and then to Minnesota, to see Sam. Then back here.”

“Okay. I could’ve sworn I saw your truck by the cabin when I patrolled last night.”

“I didn’t take the truck, Kathy. I flew.”

“How’d you get to the airport without the truck?”

“I didn’t take a plane, Kathy. I just…flew. I have wings, remember?” Cas grinned at her.

“ _Wings_. Right. So, how’s Claire, then?”

“I think I upset her.”

“Oh? Why do you think that, Cas?”

“She casually mentioned that she had spoken to Sam and Dean, earlier in the day, and I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, I know they’re friends, and there’s no reason for her not to speak with them, but I just wasn’t expecting it. And she glanced up and saw the look on my face, and started, well, babbling about how sorry she was, and I think I told her that it was okay, but then I just left. I’m not sure I even said goodbye to her. I think I just said something about how I’d try to remember to call first, before just popping in on her, and then…I just popped _out_. And then I had voicemail from Sam, saying that Claire had called him, and they were both worried, so I popped in to see him.”

“But not Dean?”

“Dean wasn’t there. Sam told me that after I left, when he heard from Dean what had been said between us, he…he made Dean get therapy, which isn’t something I would _ever_ have thought Dean would agree to do. And Dean had discovered the multiple sets of memories left over from his time in Hell, and it was causing him difficulty, so I had to explain to Sam what I’d had to do to rebuild and resurrect Dean, and how I had failed Dean, yet again.” Cas sighed. “Sam tried to tell me that I wasn’t to blame, that it was Alastair’s doing, and he’s right, but I should have fixed it, should have tried at some point to help Dean more with it, and I didn’t, and that _is_ on me.”

“ _Could_ you have fixed it, Cas? Once Dean was resurrected, I mean?” Kathy asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Point is, I never _tried_.”

“Well, Cas, from what you’ve been telling me, you’ve been pretty busy, the both of you, since then. Alastair had, what, _thirty years_? To implant those false memories. You had what, _five minutes_? To correct as many of them as possible, and rebuild Dean from scratch, _cell by cell?_ And _since_ then? I don’t recall you mentioning a spare _thirty years_ where you could have sifted Dean’s memories at your leisure to do a better job. You only brought Dean back _eleven_ years ago, or that’s what you said, any way. So, yeah, Cas, I’m not seeing where you’re at fault there.”

“You don’t even believe that any of this happened, Kathy,” Cas reminded her, amused.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But you do, Cas. Look, I only know what you’ve told me, but you haven’t made yourself out to be perfect or all-knowing. You told me yourself that angels make mistakes, and that you’ve made plenty. And in some instances you’ve told me about, I’ve agreed that you were in the wrong. I just don’t think this is one of those times, Cas. Y’know what I think?”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t think _you_ really think you’re to blame for Dean’s false memory problem, either. I think you’re afraid that _Dean_ will think you’re to blame for it, and you think it’ll be just one more thing for which he’ll say you have to answer to him. Frankly, I think you should stick to your guns on this one, Cas, if it comes to that.”

Cas blinked, then smiled slowly. “Thank you, Kathy.”

“You’re welcome.

"So. You and Jack, in Heaven, with Kelly; you made a deal with the Cosmic Entity. And then…?”

“And then….”

***

Dean got out of the Impala and opened the rear door for Donna. She slid out and stood up, still a little hesitant to look him in the eye.

“Donna. I apologize. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Dean told her, reaching over to lift her chin gently.

“Oh, Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. Donna, you’re one of my favorite people. You make my day brighter by just _existing_. So, when you get down on yourself, and sad, about how you look, it makes me sad, too, because you’re so _beautiful_ , inside and out, sweetheart. Look, I know Doug was important to you, once. But you left him behind, and for _good reason_. So, please, don’t let him weasel his way back under your skin, okay? I don’t know what his deal is, why he’s so mean to you, but I do know that you should stick to your guns, and not listen to him. And I know I shouldn’t yell at you and make the insecurity worse, so I’m sorry for that. I just get a little frustrated sometimes, because I care about you. And when I care about people, and they don’t do what’s best for themselves, I get mad. So, when you start listening to what Doug has to say, which isn’t in your best interests, I get mad. At him for saying it, but also at you, for listening to it and believing it. So, cut it out, y’hear?” Dean leaned over and kissed her cheek gently.

“Aw, you’re just a big ol’ softy, Dean Winchester.” Donna blushed.

“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone, okay? ‘Specially not Sammy.”

From inside the car, Dean heard Sam snort. He thought he heard, “Yeah, like I’m unaware.”

Donna giggled. Dean grinned at her. “That’s better.”

“You two. Okay, you’d best be getting on the road. Siren’s about an hour and a half away. You should be able to get there before their police department’s public records desk closes down for the day. Oh, and Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. And I hope whatever’s got _you_ down works itself out soon. If you need to talk, I’m only a phone call away. I care about you, too, y’know.” She reached up and ruffled his hair gently.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean flushed a little, but smiled softly. “You good?”

“I’m good. You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then, get goin’, mister!” Donna gave Dean’s shoulder a tiny push, and he laughed as he got back in the car and turned the key.

Donna waved as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot, then went back inside the office to get back to her day.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more being mean to Donna, I promise. :)
> 
> Okay, I said I wasn't gonna beg, but I lied. Please comment? Please??? :)


	15. I'm Here, Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have a small chat, find the graves, find the motel where the shtriga attack took place, and check in. Dean journals.

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along with the music from the car radio, which he had turned up in an effort to avoid conversation. That lasted until the end of the first song; then Sam reached over and turned the radio off. Dean braced himself, but what Sam said surprised him.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“F-for what?” Dean was truly befuddled.

“Do you even _realize_ the extent to which you’ve been opening up to people in the last couple of days, Dean? I don’t know if it’s the therapy, or because you’ve stopped drinking, or if it’s just because you’re actually thinking about how you come across to others, but you’ve _changed_ , for the better, man. You told Donna that she makes your ‘day brighter by just existing.’ And while I know that’s true, that’s _not_ something that Dean Winchester would normally say.”

“I guess not, huh?” Dean swallowed hard.

“I’m proud of you, Dean. It takes _courage_ to change. Hell, it takes courage to _try_ to change. But then, you’ve always been the bravest person I know.” Sam stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“What? Sam…. I’m…I’m not…brave. I’m _terrified_ most of the time.” Dean flushed a little and reached up to twist at the collar of his t-shirt.

“What do you think courage is, Dean? It’s not the absence of fear. It’s the ability to act _despite_ one’s fears. You’re sometimes reckless, but always courageous, when action is required. But when it comes to expressing your feelings for others, yeah, there, I’ll give you, you’re not the bravest. So, when I hear you saying things like what you said to Donna today, yeah, it makes me _proud_.”

Dean was silent for a few moments.

“Sam, I don’t always give you enough credit. And I know I don’t tell you often enough how I feel about you. And I know that you _think_ you know why. I sometimes wish that you knew me as well as you think you do, that you knew even _one-tenth_ of what I … never mind, that’s not important right now.

“Look, Sam, I want to talk to you about some things, but I still have stuff I need to work through on my own, first. So, even though it might frustrate you, I need to ask you a favor. Could you hold off on asking me about what’s going on inside my head, just until after I’ve had a chance to journal about some things tonight? I’ll work on it right after dinner, I’ll even let you read what I write. I promise, I’m _not_ trying to shut you out, or wall things off, or anything like that. I’m just trying to process things, including what you just said, and I need to do that on my own, first. Is that okay?”

Dean kept his eyes on the road, but the effort it took him not to look over at Sam was enormous.

“Dean, you don’t _ever_ have to let me read anything you write in your journal. That’s for your private thoughts, and I don’t mean to intrude on those. When I push you to open up, it’s because I care about you and I worry that you do wall things off. But I’ve seen that you’re making an honest effort, and I can see its effects on you, as I said. So, if you need to process, if you need to journal, if you need to talk, if you need to talk to someone else, that’s all absolutely okay with me, man. If you _never_ want to tell me any of what’s going on in your head, as long as I know you’re talking to someone, I’m okay with _that_ , too.”

“Well, _I’m not_. I mean it. I don’t _want_ to shut you out, Sam. It’s an old habit, a bad habit, of protecting you from every little thing that I possibly could, long past the time you needed to be protected. And at some point, it stopped being a protection and started being a weapon, and I never intended that, Sam, never. I know it needs to stop.

“I just need a little time where I don’t have to worry that you’re worrying, where I know that you’re not going to ask, or going to be wanting to ask, if I’m okay. I don’t want to lie and say that I’m fine when you ask, but I don’t know what else to say. I’ve been going with ‘I’m fine’ for so long that it’s my default, but you and I both know it isn’t true. Because the truth is, _no, I’m not okay_ , but I don’t even know yet what it is that’s making me _not_ okay.

“So I’m not asking you not to be concerned, Sammy, I’m just asking you not to pressure me about it, or to try to get me to talk about it. Not…just _not yet_. But later tonight, after I’ve journaled about what I’m thinking? Yeah, I think I’ll be good to talk then.”

Sam kept his eyes on the view out the window, but he reached over with his left hand and found Dean’s arm, giving it a simple, gentle squeeze. It was a gesture they’d had between them for years, that meant, without words, _“I’m here, brother.”_

***

They found the Siren police department with little difficulty. Sam went inside to talk with the public records desk clerk while Dean kept the motor running. Sam came back out after about ten minutes with a clean, not smudged, copy of the incident report.

“Michael, Anya, and Alma Daniels. Alma’s the daughter. She was four when they had the crash.”

“Were they buried? Do we know where?” Dean asked.

“They were buried, Clam Lake Cemetery. Stay straight north on State Rd. 35, that’s this road out of the parking lot here, to Midtown Road, then take a right; Midtown’ll take us straight to it. It’s about five miles total, gate to the cemetery will be on the right.”

“On it.” Dean pulled the car out of the parking lot and followed Sam’s directions, and in less than ten minutes, they were pulling in to Clam Lake Cemetery.

While they were driving, Sam had gone to a slightly creepy little website he’d found some time back, called findagrave.com. With it, you could pull up any cemetery in the country, and with the name of the deceased, find a specific grave’s location. By the time they pulled up, he’d found the Daniels’ graves, and was able to direct Dean to a place to park within easy walking distance.

Other than the Winchesters, the cemetery was deserted, but the boys knew better than to try to dig up a grave in the middle of the afternoon. Now that they had the grave’s location, they could come back after dark.

***

They went to find a motel. Sam was able to pull up three near the cemetery on Google Maps, but when he showed Dean the website for the Pine Wood Motel (ironically, it was located just past the police department, so they had to go back the way they came), Dean froze.

“Sammy. That’s….”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m _positive_. That’s where we _were_ , Sam. There was a laundromat right down the block…. It was called…Soapy’s, or… Sudsy’s, I think?”

“Yeah, Sudsy’s, it’s still there, according to Google Maps.”

“Yeah, that’s the place, Sam. _That’s where the shtriga attacked you_. The Pine Wood Motel.”

***

Fortunately, the motel was under new management, and had been completely refurbished, stem to stern. Dean couldn’t remember the room number that they’d had so long before, but the desk clerk assured them that all of the rooms had been completely redecorated in the past three years, after a fire had destroyed much of the back of the building and done extensive smoke damage to the rest. When they entered their room, there was no sense of recognition, and the slight miasma of motel griminess that Dean had recalled under hypnosis no longer existed. Dean sighed in relief.

Sam went in to the bathroom to take his shower, and Dean settled in at the desk with his pen and notebook to journal.

***

_Thursday evening._

_A lot’s happened since I wrote my last entry, yesterday. Hard to believe how much, actually. I feel like I’ve had walls up **forever** , that are now just crumbling to dust at the merest touch. I talked to Claire and admitted that I had messed up with Cas. I told Jody that I love her. I told Donna that she’s one of my favorite people and makes my life brighter by existing. And I told Sam that I don’t give him enough credit, and that I don’t want to shut him out any more._

_**God** , how I don’t want to shut people out any more. When did I start believing that I had to be an island? That I had to give and give and give, and could never have anything for me?_

_Claire got it. She said that I push people away, and that I push the hardest on the people I love the most. And then she said, “I get it. I’m the same way. **You just need to get that we love you back**.” When did I **forget** that? When did I forget that Sam loves me? That Claire, and Jody, and Donna, and Alex, and…Cas…love me? **How** did I forget that?_

_I told Sam today that I didn’t want to shut him out. That shutting him out was an old, bad habit. That it started out as a method of protecting him from all the bad stuff that I knew was out there, back when he was a little kid, and taking care of him was my job. I never wanted him to know about the monsters. Hell, I never wanted him to know that I went without food, or how worried I was all the time, that Dad might not make it back, that we might run out of money. I wanted him to be able to just be a kid, and to do that, I had to shut him out. But I kept it up **far** past the time he needed to be protected, and at some point, it stopped being a protection and started being a weapon. I never intended that, and I know it needs to stop._

_I shut Cas out, too. Worse, I blame Cas, and not just silently, I **tell** him he’s to blame, and I make him **believe** it. I push and I push and I push, and I’m so tired. With Cas, it’s not about protecting **him**. It’s about protecting **me**. From the first moment Cas told me what he was (“I’m an angel of the Lord….”), it has been the **bedrock** of my belief that… **I don’t deserve to have Cas in my life**. That I will **never** be good enough to make up for everything I’ve done, **never** atone enough to believe that I can have Cas as a permanent part of my family. I can let in Claire, Jody, and Donna; they’re human, they make mistakes. Sam, I know will never leave me entirely; he’s my brother. But **Cas**? Not remotely the same. Doesn’t matter how many times he falls, doesn’t matter how many mistakes he makes. **I will never. Be. Good. Enough.** So I push. Shove. Tell him to go._

_When all I really want is for him to **stay**._

_When Sam told me last night that Cas had been there, talking with him, I was hurt, at first. **Oh, sure, talk to Sam**. And then I realized my own idiocy. Of **course** Cas doesn’t want to talk to me. **I. Hurt. Him.** On purpose. Because I believed he was going to hurt **me** , so I forced him to do so. Self-fulfilling prophecy._

_And then I just wanted to cry._

_And that was **before** Sam told me what Cas told him. Cas actually tried to **help** , provided useful information. Despite how angry he must be at me, he **still** tried to help. And what am I supposed to do with **that**?_

_Sam said that he’d asked Cas if he knew anything about why my memories were so messed up, and Cas told him that every day of the thirty years (in Hell's time) that Alastair had me on the rack, Alastair not only tore me apart, he built me back up. When he did, he added in false memories of Dad’s physical abuse of me, and other things, that made me more and more inclined to take the deal he offered me – that I could get down off the rack and stop his torture of me, if I just agreed to torture others. Which I did, until Cas pulled me out, ten years (again, in Hell’s time) later. Cas tried to fix the accumulated damage, but he only had a few minutes in which to rebuild me, between pulling me out of the pit and resurrecting me. He could only discard memories that were obviously false, because they were incomplete, or details were wrong because Alastair had rushed when creating the fake. Taking away a complete memory where the details seemed right, might have taken away a real memory, which would have done even more damage to me, and Cas couldn’t risk that. He said I have at least two memories of most events, and for some events there might be more._

_And then Sammy said that because it took having a false history of a lifetime of physical abuse implanted in me to make me conducive to agreeing to torture others, and that I would have held out, but for that, that it somehow made me **blameless** in the choice that I made, because it was a choice that I’d been **conditioned** by Alastair to make. Sam pointed out that I was 29 when I went to Hell, with 29 years of memories that, at that point, conditioned me to **not** accept the deal. It took Alastair 30 years of reprogramming me to get me to take it. **I was on the rack longer than I had been alive** , and by the time I did agree to the deal, I was no longer me._

_That was a somewhat comforting notion, I must admit. Until I’d slept on it. This morning, I realized that Sammy’s point basically makes things **worse** , not better. Assuming Sam’s right, that Alastair reprogrammed me to be a torturer, and Cas couldn’t undo all the damage…. Then I’m **still** the person who took the deal. I’m **still** the person who **tortured souls and enjoyed it**. The Dean who existed before I went to Hell wasn’t to blame, maybe. **But I’m not that old Dean**. I’m the Dean who took the deal. And that Dean, the Dean of Alastair’s creation, **is** to blame. I told Sam that, **and I still believe it**._

_Of course, Sam contradicted me, with his lawyer’s logic. He said that the Dean that I am now, the “Dean of Alastair’s creation” as I put it, was still under duress, and you don’t blame someone for doing something under duress that they wouldn’t normally do. Ergo, I wasn’t at fault, Alastair was. Period. I just did what I had to do, what Alastair forced me to do. It wasn’t a choice made of my own free will. It was a choice that even ‘this me’ would not have made, absent Alastair’s coercion._

_But the fact remains. I **did** take the deal. I **did** torture others. **I did enjoy it.** And that’s still ‘this me,’ as Sam put it. He said himself that **Cas couldn’t fix the damage that was done**. The Dean that Cas brought back from Hell wasn’t the Dean who went down._

_And then Sam said this: “Well, of course not, Dean. You went through Hell. You were never going to be the ‘Dean who went down.’ I’m just saying, you taking the deal wasn’t really a choice, Dean. You torturing others, that wasn’t a choice. And none of it was your fault. It never was. You don’t choose to be raped, and you don’t blame the victim.”_

_I don’t agree that I’m not to blame. I’m **wholly** responsible for the choices I’ve made._

_Then, today, we saw Donna, and she was miserable. Her bastard ex-husband, Doug, was being a dick yet again, fat-shaming her, and she was really being down on herself, and I snapped at her for it. And I saw right away the point Sam was going to make about it, how I was being hypocritical to her, and to myself, and hell, to Cas, even. And to an extent, yes, I get where he wants to go with it (although, to be fair, he hasn’t said a damn thing about it – yet). I just don’t believe he’s correct when it comes to me._

_Because I’m **not** just a victim. Yes, I’m a victim, **too**. But I’m not **just** a victim. I **chose** to be a torturer to have relief from my own torture. Sure, it was under duress; sure, I wasn’t in my right mind. **But it was still a choice that I made, that I had no right to make.**_

_Donna didn’t choose to have Doug bring doughnuts and then turn on her for it when she ate one. Okay, she didn’t have to eat one, and **that** was a choice – but why **shouldn’t** she make that choice? She’s beautiful, she’s not endangering herself, or anyone else, by eating a damn doughnut. It’s not like she goes out and buys a box of the damn things every morning and eats them on her own. She had **one** , because Doug brought them in special when he had to come in for the day. She didn’t choose to be abused, she chose to have a treat **that she had every right to have**._

_**I had no right to torture other souls**. No matter how much relief it gave me to be off the rack, I had no right to torture others in order to get down off of it. **That was not a deal that I had a right to make.**_

_And **that’s** why it’s an invalid comparison, no matter how much Sammy’s lawyer logic thinks it has it tied up with a big satin bow._

_Sam said I didn’t have to show him what I wrote in my journal, but I think he needs to understand this, so I’m going to **ask** him to read it._

_And Sam, when you have, please – **don’t argue with me about it.**_

_I am to blame for making the deal._

_I am to blame for breaking the first seal._

_And I’m to blame for blaming you for setting Lucifer free, when in truth, it wouldn’t have mattered that you killed Lilith and broke the last seal, had I not already broken the first._

_That’s right, Sam. I admit it. **The whole freakin' Apocalypse was my fault, not yours**._

_What you said during the Trials? **Sam, you have never let me down**. Not once. _

_I’m the one who’s failed, over and over and over._

_I’ve failed you, I failed Dad, I've failed Cas, **and not once have I ever admitted it.**_

_I’m sorry, Sam._

_**Thank you**. Thank you for being the one person who always, always, believes in me, and never leaves._

_I’m so tired._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cemetery, laundromat, and motel are all real. You can find them on Google Maps, if you want to look. The findagrave.com website is also real. The Daniels family is fictional, although, as already mentioned, the urban legend is real. I just gave the family a name.
> 
> Comments are life. :)


	16. Weather Patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weather takes on added significance. Sam nears a breaking point of his own.

Sam came out of the bathroom, and Dean went in. He didn’t mention the journal, yet; he still wanted to think about some things, and he knew Sam would want to talk after he’d read the entry, even though he’d asked Sam, in the entry, not to argue about it. He wasn’t ready for that discussion quite yet. He wanted some food in him, for one thing.

For another, he wanted to get the salt-n-burn part of this case over and done with, and he was still inclined to believe there was some connection between the shtriga that had attacked Sam, on the one hand, and the Daniels’ car accident, on the other. The date and location were just too coincidental for Dean’s comfort. He didn’t know what the connection was, but he was sure they would find one, eventually.

***

While Dean was taking his shower, Sam got dressed for dinner and grave digging – the usual jeans and flannel shirt. He saw that Dean’s journal notebook was out on the desk, but he’d meant what he told Dean. That was for Dean’s private thoughts, and he wasn’t about to pry.

So he grabbed his laptop and curled up on one of the beds, instead of sitting at the desk, indicating silently that he’d kept a respectful distance from the journal.

Opening the laptop, he researched the records of the weather in Siren, Wisconsin, in May 1989. He learned that while the unusual rainfall and sleet that fell in Siren in the early morning hours of May 23, 1989, was a very localized storm, it was by no means the only unusual weather that happened that month. In fact, there were a total of 173 tornadoes recorded across the country in May of that year, and more than half of the states reporting tornadoes exceeded their monthly average – including Wisconsin, Nevada, Hawaii (a state which hardly ever has tornadoes at all), Texas, and Missouri. Moreover, the storms themselves were stronger than usual, including an F3 intensity storm that downed electrical transmission towers and killed 32 head of cattle in Texas. There were also unusual hail storms across the country that month, and a “non-convective high wind event” in the Great Lakes Region, from northern Wisconsin across to Pennsylvania.

He found himself missing Ash’s algorithm that connected weather patterns and other abnormal events to demon activity; it had been one of the handiest tools they’d ever had, but it had sadly died with the odd genius when the Roadhouse had burnt to the ground. This amalgam of oddly frequent and strong storm patterns might mean that there had been demons out and about the country in May 1989, but it was too hard to track it in his head with just the data available in a ten-minute internet search, 30 years later.

He sighed and closed the browser window. A shtriga wasn’t a demon, anyway. He saw no real indication of a connection between the shtriga attack and the Daniels’ accident, or the storm, beyond the date and location. The only odd association was _him_ – the fact that the shtriga had attacked him, _then_ , and here he was, _now_ , 30 years later, investigating the accident.

_Dean won’t see it that way, but it’s true. I’m the only connection, and it’s weak, at best._

He opened his email and scrolled through his inbox, but there was nothing important that he needed to deal with right now, and he didn’t feel like dealing with spam, so he got back out of that.

He opened Words With Friends, but there were no available turns, and he didn’t feel like starting a new game just then, so he got back out of that, as well.

He thought about opening Facebook, but the last time he’d done that, there’d been a message waiting from Becky, and he didn’t feel like going down the particular rabbit hole of talking to the ex-wife he’d never loved; it was easier to just not go on the platform at all. He didn’t really feel like going on Twitter, either.

He gave up and closed the laptop, and his eyes. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

_I’m too keyed up. If I had time, I’d go for a run, but we’ll be digging later, so I’d better not. I’ll get my exercise then. Maybe a run in the morning, though._

Running was Sam’s coping mechanism. He didn’t necessarily run every day, but when some aspect of his life was causing stress, it felt good to get out on the road or the trail, get out of his own head, and lose himself in the purely physical sensations of taking one step after another.

Really, the only other thing that had ever worked nearly as well was sex, and Sam considered himself a serial monogamist. He was still vaguely ashamed of himself for the period of his life when he’d been soulless and he’d had a string of one-night stands and sex with prostitutes. He wanted a relationship, not a fling.

But his relationships tended to not work out well for his partners and exes – Jess had died, burning on the ceiling of their shared apartment, killed by a demon wearing the meat suit that had once been one of his best friends; Madison had begged him to end her life when it turned out that she was a werewolf, and he’d tearfully complied; Amy was never really a girlfriend, _per se_ , but he’d cared about her, and she had been killed by Dean when he’d learned she was a kitsune; Sarah wasn’t really a girlfriend either – he’d taken her out to dinner once and they’d spent just a few days together – but she had been killed by Crowley’s curse, years later, suffocating before his eyes.

_I suppose I should be glad that Amelia and Becky are still alive; hell, maybe I should check that they actually **are**. It's been a while. Not tonight, though._

He was tired. Dean wasn’t the only one who’d literally been to Hell. Cas had rescued Sam from the Cage, but hadn’t realized he’d returned without Sam’s soul. When Death had retrieved Sam’s soul from the cage a year later, it had been so twisted by the experience that Death had had to wall part of it off, and that wall had eventually fallen. Cas had taken the damage done to Sam’s soul, after it nearly broke Sam, and it had almost broken Cas, as well. Though the damage to his soul was gone, Sam still had the memories, and the nightmares.

He hadn’t been sleeping well. Normally, he’d talk to Cas or to Dean after a nightmare, but now…. He wasn’t blaming them, each of them had a lot on their plate just now – but with Cas unavailable, and Dean already going through his own misery, Sam had no one, and it was wearing on him. He was almost glad that he’d be digging up a grave. He’d get some exercise, he wouldn’t have time to get deep enough into sleep to dream, and then he could run in the morning, before Dean woke.

That would have to be enough. Dean had always had his back. He needed to be there for Dean, now.

His own nagging fatigue and bad dreams couldn’t stand in the way of that.

***

Dean got dressed and came back out of the bathroom. He noted that his journal notebook was still on the desk, exactly where he’d left it, with the pen on top, in exactly the same position. He’d expected no less, but was still glad of it.

“Dinner, Sam?”

“I want Lucky Charms.” Sam grinned at him.

Dean swallowed hard. “I thought you didn’t remember…?”

“I don’t remember being here when I was six, or being attacked by the shtriga. I vaguely remember spending time at Pastor Jim’s that summer.

"But I do remember when we came back here in 2005, you telling me about it, how I got you to give me the last of the box, even though you hadn’t had any of it, and then I gave you the prize as a peace offering. It _was_ Lucky Charms, right?”

“Yeah. Very funny, bitch.”

“I thought so, jerk.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You coming, or not?”

Sam got up and patted Dean’s cheek gently, but mockingly, as he passed him on the way out the door. Dean followed him out and closed the door behind them.

***

By the time they’d finished eating, it was full dark. The moon was heavy and full in the night sky.

“You know, Dean, this may not be the best idea we’ve ever had,” Sam noted, as they turned into the cemetery.

“Hmm?” Dean responded, his eyes on the twisty curving road through the cemetery.

“It’s October 30. The day before All Hallow’s Eve, and we’re in a cemetery, during a full moon, about to dig up the grave of a 30-year restless spirit, who may or may not have some connection to a shtriga.”

Dean glanced over at Sam. “That reminds me. On the way home, we gotta make a detour.”

“A de… oh. _Lawrence_.”

“Yeah.”

“Do we really need to? We know she’s moved on, Dean. We know she’s happy, with Dad, in Heaven. What’s the point of going to a grave she’s no longer in?”

“Tradition? I dunno, Sam, I just feel closer to her there than anywhere else. I’d like to stop there, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, D.” Sam stared out the car window, into the dark. It wasn’t, really. He didn’t really feel like celebrating the 36th anniversary of the day their mother had first died, the day Azazel had fed him demon blood. But Dean wanted it, and he’d go along, as always.

***

They found the grave again with no difficulty. Sam got the shovel out of the trunk and started digging. He knew Dean would volunteer to take a turn in a while, and he knew that he’d ignore him and keep digging. He wanted to feel the burn in his shoulders and back.

As expected, about an hour in, when he’d gotten about halfway down, Dean stepped forward. “My turn, Sammy.”

“Nope. I got it, Dean. You just stand guard and keep the lantern on for me.” Sam kept digging.

“Sam. C’mon, you’re gonna wear yourself out, man. Let me take a turn.”

“No, D. I want the exercise. I’m good, ‘kay?” Sam kept digging.

Dean huffed out a breath, but recognized the Winchester stubborn streak; after all, he had it himself. He shrugged. If Sam wanted to exercise, he’d let him. They’d probably just be heading back to Kansas tomorrow, and he’d be driving.

_Sam can sleep in the car all day, if it comes to that. Not like he's never done that before._

Dean shrugged out of his green Army surplus jacket. For nighttime in late October, in Wisconsin, it suddenly seemed awfully warm and muggy. He noticed Sam wiping sweat out of his eyes and off his forehead.

“It seem a little too oddly warm to you, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“I thought it was just the digging, but yeah; it’s humid, too. I’m sweating up a storm, here.”

Dean looked up at the word ‘storm’ and noticed that he could no longer see the full moon for the gathering clouds. “Sam. Dig faster. Storm’s coming.” Sam nodded, and started digging faster.

Dean set the lantern down, and went back to the Impala’s trunk. He pulled out the salt and gasoline, and looked in vain for another shovel, or anything else that could be used to help dig the hole they needed. He carried the salt and gas back to the grave and set them down, picking the lantern up.

“Sam, you sure you don’t want a break?”

“Nope.”

“No, you’re not sure?”

“No, I don’t want a br…shut up, Dean.” Sam kept digging.

Dean kept an eye on the clouds. They were rolling in fast.

He pulled out his cell phone, and brought up the weather app. As he’d expected, the forecast was clear skies overnight, with a high temperature of 40F. He estimated it was easily in the low 80s currently, and rising.

_Shit. This weather isn’t normal, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weather statistics given for May 1989 actually happened, but in May 1986. 
> 
> Comments would be good, here. ;)


	17. I've Got Good News, and Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna stands up to Doug. Jody, Alex, and Claire celebrate. Sam and Dean discover that salt-n-burning the bones of Alma Daniels is insufficient to end the case.

Donna stared at her cell phone and drummed her fingers on her thigh.

_Do I really have the nerve to do this?_

Ever since Dean had snapped at her in the diner, and especially after he’d apologized, Donna had been thinking.

No, she wasn’t “model skinny” and never would be. But she wasn’t having trouble buttoning her uniform, either; in fact, it was a little loose on her. And Sam had said she looked “great,” and Sam didn’t lie to people he cared about. And Dean!

_Dean said I’m beautiful. Inside and out. And that I make his life better by just **existing**._

And those were not things she’d ever thought would have come out of Dean Winchester’s mouth, to anyone, much less her. Dean thought she mattered. Dean cared.

Oh, she knew Dean wasn’t about to fall for her; they were just good friends. But hey, good friends can check each other out, and it wasn’t like she was oblivious to the good looks of either Winchester brother.

_Not for me, but oofta. They’re so pretty._

But if Sam and Dean, who wouldn’t lie to her about it, told her that she looked good, she knew she could take it to the bank.

So….

She picked up the phone, and dialed.

“Doug? It’s Donna. Wanted to be sure you got all the information you need from our files today. Mmhmm. … Good, good. Look, you find out you need something more, you send a deputy next time. No, Doug, I mean it. You are not welcome in my office. I’m tired of your bullying and your fat-shaming. There’s _nothing_ wrong with me and the way that I look, and I don’t intend to put up with your….your **_HOOEY_** , any more. _Good bye_ , Doug.”

She ended the call. She huffed out a breath.

_Well, that felt pretty darn good._

She dialed another number.

“Jody? You’ll never guess what I just did….”

***

Jody ended the call, and stared off into space, a tiny smile on her face. Alex came into the living room from the kitchen, saw her foster mother’s expression, and waved a hand in front of Jody’s eyes.

“Earth to Jody…come in, Jody….”Alex giggled as she saw Jody blink and realize she was no longer alone in the living room.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry, just had a good call from Donna. You’ll never guess what she just did.”

At that moment, Claire came in the front door, hauling her duffel of dirty clothes, back from the ghoul hunt.

“What’d Donna do?” she asked.

Jody grinned. “Remember I told you about Doug-the-ex-husband, the one who always is so nasty about how much she weighs? She told him off.”

“No way!” Alex gasped.

“Go Donna!” Claire cheered.

“Apparently, Sam and Dean gave her a good stern talking-to about how she shouldn’t take Doug’s guff, so she called him. Told him that the next time his department needs records from hers, he should send a deputy, because he’s not welcome, and she’s not putting up with his hooey any more. In so many words, apparently.”

“ _Woot!_ ” the two younger girls yelled, together, giving each other a high-five.

Claire grinned at the other two. “We should road trip to Minnesota. That calls for a movie night visit. Call her back, see when we can descend upon her!”

“Oh, I’m still on double shifts at work, no road trips for me,” Alex said, shaking her head. “I love Donna, but we’re sooo short-staffed, it’s silly. They’ve gotta hire more nurses, and soon.”

“Well, then, you and me, Jodes, _c’mon_ ,” Claire begged.

“Well, I’ll have to look at my schedule too, but.... Yeah, I’ll call tomorrow and see if Donna’d be up for it. We haven’t seen her in a while, and you’re right, this is something to be celebrated.” Jody grinned, as Claire danced all the way to the laundry room.

***

Sam felt the shovel hit the coffin before he heard it; the impact went all the way up into his shoulder, already sore from a gunshot wound that refused to heal. He was used to working through pain, though, and kept clearing dirt as quickly as possible.

“Dean, I’ve got the box.”

Dean took one last look at the clouds boiling above them, and handed Sam the salt. Sam opened the coffin and poured salt over the bones. The wind whipped up fiercely. Dean turned slowly as he heard behind him the unmistakable sound of Baby’s engine turning over…despite the keys being in his pocket.

“Hurry, Sam!”

The car radio clicked on, and a talk radio station was on; the station suddenly changed to a Top 40 format. Sam pulled himself up out of the hole, and Dean poured the gasoline over the bones as the station changed again to country & western. Dean pulled out a lighter, sparked it, and just as the radio went to static, tossed the lighter down into the hole.

A child’s voice came through the radio speaker – _“Mommy! I can’t”_ – and was suddenly silenced, as Baby’s engine cut out, and, at the same moment, the skies opened up and a heavy driving rain started to fall. Sam and Dean watched the fire continue to burn, despite the rain. Then Sam started to shovel dirt back into the hole. The fire died after a couple of shovelfuls of dirt cut off its oxygen. Yet, somehow, the air temperature continued to get hotter, and, despite the rainfall, the humidity seemed to be worsening, as well.

“Dean, I don’t think Alma Daniels’ restless spirit is the _only_ problem here!” Sam yelled, over the rain. Dean nodded. He knelt and tossed handfuls of dirt back into the grave, as Sam continued to fill in the hole with the shovel. The hole was also filling with water.

Soon enough, the grave, while not looking quite _right_ , was full, and it was time to go. They quickly gathered the shovel, salt, and gas, and scooted back to the car, tossed the supplies in the trunk, and closed it quickly. Dean pulled the blanket from the back seat and swiftly spread it out across the front seat, to keep their wet clothes off the leather. Sam rolled his eyes, but only minimally, as he got in and shut the door.

As Dean got in on the driver’s side, he realized that with the rain coming down as hard as it was, it might not be safe to drive.

“This is like the storm Jody was telling us about, the one the night the Daniels family went off the road in the first place, thirty years ago,” Sam noted.

“Yeah, I was just thinking that. I don’t know that it’s safe to drive in this,” Dean agreed.

Sam nodded and curled up against the passenger-side door. He closed his eyes.

As Dean slid the key into the ignition, he murmured, “That’s _twice_ you’ve started on me without the keys, Baby. Let’s not make that a habit, hmmm?”

Sam huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s right. First time was the White Woman, right before….” His voice trailed off.

Dean knew he’d been going to say “right before Jess was killed.”

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry.”

“I know, D.”

Dean realized the temperature and humidity were still rising, despite the storm, which should have cooled things off and made it less muggy. He turned on the AC.

The rain showed no signs of slackening. The clouds were thick and hid the moon, so it was pitch black just a few inches beyond Baby’s headlights.

And suddenly, the car radio switched itself on again.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff, a little mystery to add to the case. Any guesses about what's causing the weather? ;)
> 
> Merry Christmas! Please comment? It's like a present.


	18. When is a Storm Not a Storm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burning the bones didn't do the trick. The boys make for the motel, but pull over to wait out the storm in a seemingly crowded bar and grill about halfway there.

When the radio switched itself on again, Sam sat bolt upright. His eyes flew open and latched onto Dean’s. “What the….”

The radio changed stations. “It wasn’t the bones, Dean.”

The radio changed stations again. “Yeah, no shit, Sam.”

A crackle of static. A child’s voice: _“Mommy! I can’t get out!”_ The radio went dead.

The heat in the car, even with the AC on high, was getting unbearable. Dean had already removed his jacket; now, he took off his flannel shirt, leaving just the t-shirt underneath.

“Sam, take your jacket off before you get heat stroke.”

“Yeah.” Sam slipped his jacket off and tossed it in the back seat.

“I don’t know if it’s safe to drive in this, but I don’t think we can stay here, either,” Dean said.

“You want to try for the motel? It’s only about six miles, D.” Sam trusted his brother to get them back safely.

“Yeah. I don’t wanna stay _here_.” Dean put the car in gear and drove slowly out of the cemetery back out onto Midtown Road. “Not like there’s gonna be much in the way of traffic, in this mess.”

Sam had a thought and pulled out his cell phone to go online to check it. “D, the radio and the kid’s voice? In Hargrove’s account, and all the others, it always occurs right at the scene of the crash. No one’s _ever_ reported it happening anywhere else.”

“Where was the crash, exactly?”

“I had Hargrove show me on Google Maps. A few miles south of the motel, if you keep going on State Road 35, there’s a bit of marshy land near Clear Lake, just past Clear Lake Street. The crash occurred right in the middle of the stretch of 35 that goes through the marsh there. Just past the crash site, there’s an unnamed private road that goes east off of 35 for about a block, but there’s nothing else around, no houses, no businesses.”

“Okay. I’m thinking we check that out in the morning. Do you have the incident report with you, or is it back at the motel?”

“I left my folder at the motel. I didn’t figure we’d need it, to dig and burn a grave,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, no, I get it, Sammy.” Dean squinted at the road, trying to see through the rain, which was still coming down every bit as hard as it had when it began to fall. “Just remind me to check, or do you know? What happened to the Daniels’ car after it was towed and impounded? Did it say where the car ended up? Did Jody happen to mention?”

“ _Jody_ didn’t say. I don’t remember if there was anything in the incident report about it. If it did, it didn’t jump out at me.”

“’kay. I’m just thinking, we’ve had to burn a vehicle before – remember the ghost truck that killed Cassie’s dad?”

“Yeah. We burned that about two-or-three months, maybe, before heading back up this way when Dad sent us the coordinates to go after the shtriga, Dean.”

“So maybe here, instead of little Alma’s bones, it’s the vehicle she was trapped in that we need to burn. I’m tellin’ ya, Sammy, I don’t believe in coincidences, but the number of the ‘apparently unrelated’ yet seemingly very related things here is makin’ me just a tad nervous.”

“I’m just not seeing the connection, D.” Sam ran a tired hand through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that we need to look into finding the Daniels’ car, if possible. But I don’t get the connection between the Daniels’ accident and the shtriga – other than the date and the town – and I don’t get any connection _at all_ between the Daniels’ vehicle and the ghost truck. Except for the two of us being involved, loosely. And we weren’t involved with the Daniels’ accident until now.”

Dean saw the sign for State Road 35, and slowed the car, though he wasn’t going even 25 miles per hour as it was in the dark storm. He took a very careful left turn at the intersection, and headed south, back toward the motel. “I’m not suggesting that the Daniels’ car is a 'ghost car' in the same way the ghost truck was. If anything, it’s a cursed object, holding Alma Daniels’ spirit. I’m just saying, it’s not the first time we’ve had to burn a vehicle, if we do. But the ghost truck was the only other vehicle we’ve ever had to burn, and you pointed out that we did so not long before we came back up this way and killed the shtriga. It may not be connected, but it’s just odd, that’s all.”

“ _Jesus_ , it’s hot in here,” Sam gasped for breathable air; it felt like a sauna in the Impala’s interior, but there was no way they could roll down the windows in this storm, and the AC was already on as high as it could go.

Dean continued to squint at the road ahead. He noticed that, although he could tell that the street lights were on when he looked directly at them, the light from them wasn’t at all affecting the darkness that surrounded Baby, just as her headlights weren’t doing anything to illuminate the road properly. “Sam. Look at the lights.”

Sam peered out into the darkness. “Yeah, D., this is weird.”

Dean could just make out the laundromat on their right; on the left, he could see a sign for the Pour House Bar and Grill, the parking lot for which appeared fairly crowded. “I’m pulling in over here, Sam. I’m not terribly hungry or anything, but I think it’s better if we wait out this storm in a crowd.”

Sam nodded. Dean turned left onto Djock Street, and then immediately right into the Pour House’s parking lot. Miraculously, there was a space open right by the door, and he took it, breathing a sigh of relief as he turned off the engine.

The brothers stepped out of the car and were immediately soaked to the skin again by the continuing downpour; they rushed to get inside.

***

Inside, there was a kind of twilight feel to the place; the lights had hazy auras, and didn’t seem to make the room terribly bright. The neon lights for various beer brands in the windows hadn’t even been visible from the outside, in the lashing deluge going on, and they weren’t all that much more distinct inside. There was music playing, but it wasn’t loud enough to interfere with conversation. There was a quiet buzz from the indistinct voices of the bar’s patrons. It was busy, but not as packed as the parking lot had made it seem.

Sam went into the bathroom in search of paper towels. Dean slid into an empty booth and grabbed a couple of napkins from the dispenser on the table to at least swab at his face. A waitress stopped by long enough to drop off two menus, and Dean ordered coffee for both Sam and himself. She brought back two steaming mugs less than a minute later. Dean looked around the bar, feeling a quiet sense of unease, but not having a sure cause for it…yet. Dean trusted his instincts, and continued to keep a sharp eye out for anything odd.

Sam came out of the bathroom and headed over to the booth. He seated himself, and doctored his coffee. He took a sip, then noticed Dean’s facial expression. “Something up?”

“Not sure. Just…got a sense.”

Sam nodded. He knew his brother’s instincts well, and he trusted them, too. He glanced around, but saw nothing that immediately struck him as suspect.

And then, he realized what it was. The hazy auras of the lights; he’d taken the haze as the cigarette smoke that permeated a lot of the bars that the brothers frequented, but there was no nicotine odor, here. Rather, the bar smelled bright and lemony, like a good cleaning had recently taken place. In fact, even with his nose right above the mug, he couldn’t smell coffee. He smelled dish detergent.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Take a deep breath, through your nose. What do you smell?”

Dean inhaled deeply. “Smells like lemon cleaner. Kinda like a hospital. Why?”

“What don’t you smell?”

Dean’s eyes widened as he realized – no smoke, no coffee, no liquor scent, no food odors at all – none of the smells of a normal bar and grill were present. He looked around again, squinting, and realized that when he looked at a bar patron and really focused – they weren’t there. And when he closed his eyes and concentrated, the conversational buzz and music faded to silence.

“Sam, what the hell…?”

“I dunno, D.”

And that’s when Sam saw a flicker of movement, like a sputtering hologram, on the far side of the bar, near the kitchen door.

“Dean, spirit at 2:00.”

Dean turned and looked in the indicated direction, but saw nothing.

And then, a voice came from the booth behind Dean. “Hello, agents. CDC, was it?” And both boys saw, to their shock, the ghost of Dr. Hydecker, the human form taken by the shtriga, as he left the booth behind Dean, and stood at the end of theirs.

The lights came up to full, the music and conversational hum ceased, the menus vanished from the table, and the once seemingly crowded bar was suddenly empty, with chairs and bar stools up for the night. Their mugs contained dishwater.

And outside, the storm simply stopped.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! :)
> 
> Any guesses as to where the Daniels' car ended up, and/or why it crashed? ;)
> 
> Please comment!


	19. Connecting the Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex talks with a co-worker. Dr. Hydecker explains some things to the boys.

Alex gulped down her fourth cup of black coffee, pinched the bridge of her nose, and blinked hard a few times, trying to focus after 12 hours on the job. This was her fifth day in a row of double shifts as charge nurse on the chronically-ill children’s ward.

_I swear, I’m gonna borrow Sam’s demon-killing knife and stick someone in HR if they don’t get off their collective ass and hire more nurses. Three new nurses, when we need more like ten, just isn’t cutting it._

“Hey, Alex.” Julie Hydecker, one of those three new nurses, came on the floor at midnight for the start of her double shift. “Any new cases since I left at 4:00?”

“Two. Both came in around 8:00 pm. Same thing. Pneumonia, compromised immune system underlying. CDC is supposed to be sending someone, maybe later today or tomorrow.”

“Two more? That makes, what, _eight_ kids with the same thing, now?” Julie asked, concerned.

“ _Ten_ ,” Alex replied. “Ward’s full. Any more kids come in, they’re either going to have to double up the rooms up here, or put kids in an adult ward.”

“And they still have no idea what’s causing it?”

“Nope.”

“I heard a rumor that the docs suspect some kind of airborne virus that mimics HIV,” Julie whispered.

“Yeah? I wouldn’t spread that around,” Alex cautioned. “First, you don’t want to start a panic by indicating it could be contagious through the air, when, in fact, _no one_ knows how this spreads. Second, some of these kids had no contact with any of the others before landing in here, which makes airborne illness unlikely, since those viruses are always pretty fragile and short-lived. Third, they’ve never found _anything_ airborne that does anything remotely like what HIV does, or causes symptoms like these.”

Julie nodded. “Okay, Alex. That makes sense.”

The call light for Room 304 came on. Alex leaned over and switched it off.

“Oh, is that 304? I’ll take it, Alex. Why don’t you take your lunch now?” Julie offered. Alex nodded gratefully and headed to the cafeteria to see what she could dig up at just past midnight with enough sugar and caffeine to keep her awake for the rest of her shift.

Julie watched Alex get on the elevator. Then she got up from the nurses station, checked her watch, yawned, and trundled down the hall to see what, exactly, four-year-old Amy Daniels, the first patient who had presented with the symptoms they’d been discussing, needed at 12:05 am.

***

Dean recovered first. “ _Didn’t we kill you already?_ Why aren’t you in Purgatory, with the rest of the monsters?”

“You did; well, at least, you killed my _monster form_ , yes. And indeed, that part of me _was_ in Purgatory, Dean; you killed her again, when you visited there a couple of years back. Which freed the spirit of my human form to return to this plane; I slipped through the portal _with you_ , unseen. So, _thank you_ for that.” The ghost mockingly made a cursory bow to Dean.

“Why would you _want_ to return?” Sam asked.

“I wanted to check on my daughter.”

Dean blinked. “Your daughter?”

“Indeed. Shtriga are both male and female, at once; we refer to ourselves as the gender of the human form. Either the monster form is female and the human form male, or vice versa. The male form impregnates the female form. If the female form is human, it bears the child as a human would. But if the female is the monster form, it lays the young as a larval symbiont, in a human child. A female shtriga in monster form looking for an appropriate child in which to implant its young is always under tremendous stress, which often manifests as a high pressure weather system which breaks in a violent storm when the right child is found. It sometimes mimics the sort of weather pattern you hunters would observe with high demon activity.

“When your father originally shot me, back in 1989, my female monster form wasn’t trying to feed on you, Sam. She was trying to implant our young, who was to be a female in human form, in you. Thus why your father’s shots didn’t kill her – a shtriga can only be killed while _feeding_. When your father shot at her, she escaped, but she was _wounded_. She had to find another child, quickly.”

Sam swallowed hard. “Why was I an appropriate child?”

“Well, obviously, Sam, _any_ of Azazel’s 'special children' would have easily qualified. Demon blood isn’t _necessary_ , but oh, it is _highly_ desirable for our kind. If we could have implanted our young in one of the children that Lilith had previously used as a vessel, that would have been delicious, as well.”

“So, the alternate child that your female form found, after our dad shot you – that was Alma Daniels?” Dean guessed.

“No, no, not at all. _Alma_ Daniels died with her parents, in the car crash. Whose bones did you _think_ you were burning this evening?” The doctor gave them a twisted smile.

“There was another child in the Daniels family, wasn’t there?” Sam asked.

The ghost nodded. “Ah, the rumors of your intelligence are true, Sam. Indeed, dear Alma had a twin sister.”

“And this twin, she was one of Azazel’s 'special children'? Like me?” Sam asked.

“Yes. _Amy_ Daniels was two years behind you in Azazel’s preparations, but indeed, she was one of his favorites.”

“So, this Amy Daniels would be thirty-four now, then,” Dean said.

“Oh, no. You see, when our daughter was implanted in Amy’s four-year-old body, it put Amy in stasis at exactly that age until our daughter was ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?” Sam wondered.

“I said that our young take the form of a larval symbiont. In fact, it’s a mutualist symbiont, which is different from a parasite, Sam. Do you remember the difference?” the ghost asked.

“A parasite is _harmful_ to the host; a mutualist lives with the host, but in a _mutually beneficial_ relationship.”

“Exactly. Until our daughter was old enough to break off and feed on its own, she kept dear Amy Daniels alive, and healthy – _and four years old_. Amy didn’t age, her body didn’t break down, and once our daughter split off from her, Amy would have been free to live out her normal life span. _Except_ ….”

“Except… _what_?” Dean asked.

“Except that once our daughter split off from dear Amy, because she didn’t know better – _because I wasn’t here to explain to her what she needed to do_ \- she will have _ended_ the mutualist form of the symbiosis, and _become_ a parasite – she will have started feeding on Amy. And, quite probably, _others_.”

“When would this have occurred?” Sam asked.

“About two weeks ago. The mutualist stage of the relationship lasts just over thirty years. It’s quite difficult to raise a shtriga, that’s why there are so few of our kind.”

“So, why tell _us_?” Dean asked.

“Because, Dean, when I slipped through the portal with you from Purgatory, I returned _here,_ to Siren, where I had left the object which keeps my human form’s spirit tethered to this plane, and which is where Amy Daniels was last seen. I was looking for her in 2005 – our daughter would have been just over halfway through her mutualist development at that point – and I had a good lead that I was about to follow, but I had the need to feed, and then the two of you killed my monster form, and put the search on hold. And now, because the object is here, _I_ cannot leave Siren. But neither Amy Daniels, nor my daughter, are here.”

“And you want _us_ to find them.” Sam scrubbed his hands through his hair, massaging his scalp tiredly.

“Indeed.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone see that coming? ;)


	20. Exposition and More Good News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Hydecker's ghost explains further. Alex confides in Jody about an oddity at work. Claire shares some good news.

“You see, boys, I don’t like you, much; you killed my monster form – twice. But I _do_ respect you. You both have reputations for being excellent hunters of the supernatural. You’re highly motivated to save others, particularly children – and make no mistake, while shtriga can feed off of anyone, children _are_ the easiest targets, and will almost _certainly_ be on what our daughter is feeding; again, starting with Amy Daniels, and continuing to others. And I have limited mobility – I can go about ten miles in any direction from the object keeping me tethered to this plane, but no further, and I am unable to move the object myself. So, I don’t _like_ you, but I _respect_ you and need your _assistance_. Hence my forthright cooperation tonight,” the spirit of Dr. Hydecker concluded.

“And why should we help you? Why would you _want_ us to? I mean, I get we’d want to, and will, help the _kids_ , sure; but doesn’t that mean _killing your daughter_? Why would you want _that_?” Dean pointed out.

“No, actually. As I said, shtriga don’t _have_ to feed off of children, children are simply easy targets for us. And most of us simply feed ourselves.”

“Huh?” Sam blinked. “Feed _yourselves_ …?”

“The human form eats regular food, like any other human; then the monster form feeds off the human form. We are a symbiotic species. Technically, each shtriga is two beings in one, although only one is ever present on this plane at a time.”

“I’m confused. If you can eat regular food, and then feed your monster form, why did your monster form need to feed off of children in _1989 and 2005_? Because your monster form _was_ feeding in 1989, that’s why our dad was here in Siren. And you said yourself that you needed to feed in 2005, that’s why you were in Fitchburg, and your monster form _was_ feeding when we killed her, or we wouldn’t have been able to do so,” Sam said, and then yawned. He raised his mug for a sip of coffee, remembered in time that it was dishwater, then remembered he’d already had a sip, made a face, and put it back down on the table. He really was quite tired.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sam; am I keeping you awake?” Dr. Hydecker’s ghost smirked at Sam. “In 1989, my monster form, my mate, was impregnated – eating for two. It’s hard for a male human form of a shtriga pair to keep up with the nutritional needs of our pregnant monster form mates. And, as I noted earlier, your father _did_ wound her – and _me_ , in the process – and she was never the same after that.

“And then, after we lost our daughter, she sank into depression and would often refuse to feed from me. In desperation, I allowed her out to feed in 2005, because I was exhausted from trying to keep both of us alive when she refused to cooperate. As I said, I had found a lead; so, she agreed to try.

“I actually _was_ trying to help the children in the hospital; if my monster form mate had agreed to feed from me, or had I restrained her further, the children would not have been ill. I felt horrible about their illness, but at the same time….”

“You couldn’t expose your monster form mate, and you couldn’t let her die from starvation.” Sam huffed out a breath.

“So, wait, how’d you lose your _daughter_? There’s no Amy Daniels mentioned in the police report. When you brought up her existence, I thought you must’ve taken her with you,” Dean was less tired than Sam, but the story wasn’t making a lot of sense to him, and although the spirit seemed to be telling the truth, something still seemed off.

“Again, we were _wounded_. Your father shot us _four times_ , you know. We had little time. We had to find another appropriate child for implantation of our young, and implant her, quickly. We found Amy, and my mate implanted our daughter; it was quite late. Alma, the sister, woke up just as we were finishing the implantation. She saw my monster form, and screamed. We went out the open bedroom window only seconds before the parents came in.

“We could hear them through the open window. Amy appeared very ill to them; she was already entering the stasis mode. They’d heard the stories of the sick children in the area, so they bundled up both girls, and headed for the hospital. I figured I could intervene at the hospital, so we went directly there.

“But the storm – it was a weather event caused by my mate’s high emotions – broke on their way there, and the Daniels’ car went off the road. The parents were killed on impact. Alma was pinned in the car; they used the jaws of life to extract her, but she died of her injuries before they reached the hospital.

"But Amy…Amy – with our daughter – was thrown from the car. She landed in the marsh, and none of the emergency personnel ever saw her, nor knew to look for her. And by the time I got to the scene of the accident, she was gone.

"Someone took her. I never knew who.”

***

Jody yawned, stretched, and slipped out of bed. She put on her robe, made her way to the kitchen to start the life-giving nectar of the gods brewing in the coffeemaker, then opened the door to get the paper from the porch. Except, it wasn’t on the porch – the delivery kid had terrible aim – it was in the bushes, and she had to stretch to reach it, but then slipped and landed in the bushes herself. She was just extricating herself, and the paper, from the bushes when Alex pulled into the driveway.

“Jody! Are you okay?”Alex called, as she hurried to her foster mother’s side.

“Oh, scratched up a little, but I’ll be fine, Alex, no worries,” Jody said. But then Alex got a look at her face, and her gasp told Jody that her self-assessment might be just a tad off.

“Jody, you’ve got a long deep scratch oozing blood down almost the entirety of your face. C’mon, inside, we’ll get that cleaned up, and hopefully you won’t need stitches.”

Alex steered Jody back into the house, and into the kitchen. She poured a mug of coffee for each of them, doctored her own, passed Jody’s mug and the flavored creamer to her, and got the first aid kit out from beneath the kitchen sink. She set the kit down on the table, and sat down to drink her coffee.

“Go on, drink up. We both need the caffeine before I start to fix your face. And then, I need about fourteen hours of sleep. Thank God for days off.”

“Bad night?” Jody asked.

“Two more kids brought in around 8 pm. I didn’t go to lunch until one of the new nurses, Julie Hydecker, came on at midnight. And then I was supposed to be done at 4 am, but one of the kids took a turn for the worse shortly after 2 am, and by the time we got that straightened out, and I got my shift paperwork done, it was closer to 6 am. And I am beat.”

“Which kid got worse?”

“Oh, Amy, the little girl I told you about – the first one that came in with - whatever this is.” Alex sighed. “She’s so pale. She’s a sweetheart, but she says odd things sometimes. I worry that her slight fever is causing hallucinations or delusions – or that maybe there’s some kind of abuse situation going on.” Alex got up and dampened a cloth at the sink, then moved toward Jody to start cleansing her wound.

“What do you mean? Should you be telling me this? Is this a HIPAA violation?” Jody winced as Alex touched the damp cloth to her face.

“Hmm? Oh, no, it isn’t, because you’re a law enforcement official, and I’m telling you this unofficially in your official capacity, and then if you want, we can make it official later. But I’m really concerned, because this little girl thinks that it’s _1989_ , and that she has a twin sister she doesn’t have, doesn’t recognize the woman who claims to be her mother, and shrinks from the nurses like she thinks we’ll bite. Particularly Julie, and Julie is such a sweetheart, and so hurt when Amy pulls away from her.”

Alex paused in her narrative to concentrate on working on the deep scratch. “Jody, you might need a stitch or two up here by your hairline. The rest of it should heal okay. I’ll check it again after my nap, okay?”

“Okay. So, a young girl – how young did you say she is? – thinks it’s thirty years ago, thinks she has a twin of whom there’s no record, and doesn’t recognize her own mother? That _is_ odd.” Jody hummed quietly, thinking.

“Amy’s four. Jodes? Are you thinking that it might be… _our_ kind of odd? _Hunter_ -odd?”

“I actually hadn’t, but why, do you think there might be something supernatural involved?” Jody looked up at Alex, who was clearly worried.

“It’s just _weird_. I mean, a four year old thinks its 30 years ago, sings “Right Here Waiting For You” – which was a number one hit in 1989 – and wants to know why _Milli Vanilli_ and Tears for Fears aren’t on the radio. How would she even know about those bands? She says they’re her favorites! It’s just, it’s just _weird_ , Jody.”

“What’s weird, Al?” Claire bounced into the kitchen, clearly doing a Tigger impression. Jody winced slightly at the early-morning energy of her other foster-daughter.

“Claire, please, can’t you at least _pretend_ to need caffeine, like the rest of us?” Alex teased.

“I’ve _had_ caffeine. I had a diet Coke stashed in my room and downed it as soon as I got up, an hour ago.” Claire tapped her head, indicating that she thought that a genius idea. “No waiting on the coffeemaker; just tap the can, and, _voila_ , caffeine! Ooh, hey, Jodes, what’d you do to your face?”

“Tripped getting the paper out of the bushes, got scratched. No big deal.” Jody took a look at the paper. The front page was largely devoted to an article about the Trump Administration’s attitude toward small farm failures, but at the bottom of the page was a smaller bit about the odd childhood illness going around. “Hey, Alex, article about the sick kids at the bottom of the page, here.”

Alex took the paper and read the article. “Oh, hey, look - it names me, Holly, and Julie, as the three nurses with most responsibility for the sick kids. Oh, and good, there’s a quote from HR in here about how badly we need more nurses; I’m so glad they finally noticed!”

“Go sleep, Alex. I’ve gotta get ready for work. Claire, what’s on your agenda today?” Jody asked.

Alex trudged up the stairs to her room. Claire watched her go, more worried about her foster sister than she was willing to let Alex see. “Is she okay, Jodes?”

“She’s tired. It’s her day off, after five days straight of double-shifts. If you’re gonna be around here, let her sleep, but I think it’s best if we’re both out of the house for awhile, hmm? So, what are you up to, today?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking I might head downtown, go shopping. I need a few things. And then I might go over to the library, I need to look something up, do some research.”

“Okay. Drive safe, have fun. You need money?” Jody had one hand on her wallet already.

“Nope, I’m good, Jodes.” Claire grinned at Jody.

“Do I want to know _how_ you have money, Claire?”

“Yes, actually. I need to call Cas later, to tell him, too.” Claire’s grin broadened.

“My dad’s life insurance finally came through. They finally paid the claim, even though his body was never found.

"It’s been seven years, so Jimmy Novak has been declared legally deceased. Jody… _I’m a millionaire_.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, Jimmy died in 2009. But Claire wasn't able to file a claim until later, so as far as the insurance company knows, it's been seven years that he's been missing, presumed dead.
> 
> As for the "facts" about the shtriga, yeah, I'm making them up. That's why it's called 'fiction.' *grin* I said this story would be 'canon-divergent.' I didn't mean just the timeline.
> 
> So, is this still working? Is this thing on? *tap tap* *feedback noise* Can a girl get a comment or two or twenty? ;)


	21. Spreading It Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire calls Cas with good news. Sam and Dean get some rest. Claire goes shopping. Jody talks with the kids in the hospital.

Cas made himself a cup of tea, then brought it over to the couch in the cabin’s small living room. He turned on the television and found that the documentary on bees that he had intended to watch didn’t start for another few minutes. He clicked the remote to turn the TV back off in the meantime, just as his cell phone rang with the ringtone that he’d set for Claire. He answered the phone with a smile.

“Hello, Claire.”

“Hey, Cas. I have some good news.”

“Oh? Well, I can always use some of _that_ , Claire.”

“Well, _I_ think it’s good news. I’m not sure how _you’ll_ react to it, though. It’s…it’s about my dad, Cas.”

“Last I checked, Claire, Jimmy’s soul was enjoying heaven,” Cas reminded her.

“Yeah, I remember, you told me. And I appreciate that you checked on him, Cas. A while back, I filed a claim on his life insurance. Since his body was never found – because you’re using it – he was declared ‘missing, presumed dead,’ and the insurer wouldn’t pay the claim until that status changed. But it’s been seven years that he’s been ‘missing,’ so he’s been declared legally deceased, and so they finally paid out,” Claire explained.

“Oh. I see.”

“Cas, please, don’t be upset. _Really_. This is good news. _Please_ see it that way,” Claire pleaded.

“Claire, you know that I still feel very culpable for your father’s death. I’m glad that you have some money available to you, but I’m afraid that it just reminds me of yet another way I’ve failed someone that I care about – you. And Jimmy. I- I should have done more to protect him, your mother, and you, and I’m ashamed that I didn’t.” Cas sighed softly.

“I know, Cas. You wouldn’t be _you_ if you didn’t feel that way. But look, Jimmy died a long time ago, and if it weren’t for you, and Sam and Dean, I wouldn’t have Jody, or Alex, or Donna. Cas, Jimmy _prayed_ to be used as a vessel, didn’t you tell me that once?”

“Er, yes. Yes, he did,” Cas confirmed.

“Well, then, if he didn’t get chosen by _you_ , he’d still likely have been chosen by _someone_ , right?” Claire asked.

“Eventually, yes, that’s true.”

“Let’s face it, Cas, the rest of the angels who might have used him are a lot worse’n you are. None of _them_ would feel any remorse for failing to protect me and my mom. They wouldn’t have felt obliged to try to make sure that I was okay. They certainly wouldn’t have kept up a relationship with me for a _decade_ , despite feeling awkward and guilt-ridden about having something to do with my father’s death. And _you_ didn’t kill Jimmy, Cas. _Lucifer_ did. Sam told me. So, please, _please_ , let it go, because I have, a long time ago. Sure, sometimes I miss my dad. But like I said, I have a much bigger, and frankly better, family now, that I wouldn’t have had, but for you. Okay?”

“Thank you, Claire,” Cas told her.

“So, now that that’s over with, here’s the rest of my news. Guess how much the insurance policy was for?” Claire’s voice bubbled with happiness that was palpable even over a cell phone.

“I don’t know, Claire. Maybe, if I have to guess…fifty thousand dollars?” Cas guessed, thinking he was probably on the high side.

“Nope. Higher!”

“Seventy-five thousand?”

“Nope! Oh, you’ll never guess. Cas, my dad’s policy was for _five million dollars_. But that was just the face value. It had a separate rider that said that if his death was contested and payout delayed, but then eventually _made_ , they’d have to pay a _penalty_ , plus _interest_ on the whole amount. So I received a check for just over _eight million dollars_ ,” Claire told him.

“Wow, Claire, that’s _excellent_ news, I’m so happy for you,” Cas said, getting into the spirit of it for her, his pseudo-daughter.

“Well, don’t just be happy for _me_ , Cas. I thought about it overnight, and I want to give some of it to Sam and Dean, some to Jody and Alex, some to Donna…and some to _you_ , Cas,” Claire said.

“Oh, Claire, no. Please, that money’s for you. I wouldn’t feel right taking it.” Cas balked.

“And I won’t feel right if you _don’t_ , Cas. Think about it. Your grace runs low sometimes, and you have to be able to get around. If you’re not going to live at the bunker, you might need to pay rent. I don’t want you going back to calling yourself ‘Steve’ and working at a convenience store. Please, Cas. I want you to have this, from me. You’ve really given me so much, Cas. Please let me give you just a little bit back?”

“Claire….”

“Please, Cas?” Claire begged. “I’m not gonna give up on this, you might as well give in now. Or I’ll send a check to you in care of Sam, and just have _him_ deposit it _for_ you. You know he will.”

“Claire, that’s blackmail.”

“Yeah. Is it working?” Claire teased.

Cas sighed. “You’re really determined to do this?”

“Yep.”

“All right, then. But I have conditions.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, first, that if I choose _not_ to use it, you don’t get upset with me. If I have grace available, and can avoid using the money, that’s up to me, and you don’t get to ride me about it. Second, that I have a will drawn up, and leave whatever I have to you, or to your children. So, if I don’t end up using it, it comes back to you, should I die, too. Fair?”

“Well, if you have grace available, you can heal and won’t die. So, the only way something would come back to me would be if you became human again, and started to use it, but ran out of time. I don’t _like_ that thought, but I’ll agree that your condition is fair, Cas.”

“Thank you, Claire.”

“Okay, give me your bank account info so I can transfer funds to you. I think the bank guy yesterday said that it’ll take eight to ten days for the deposit to post to my account, but I’ll send it to yours by direct wire transfer; so, once _I_ have it, _you’ll_ have it.”

Cas shook his head at the generosity of this young woman for whom he’d come to care so much, but he pulled out his wallet and gave her the information, promising to text it to her as well, to avoid errors.

***

When the spirit was done giving them all the information it had, it vanished. Sam and Dean stumbled, exhausted, back outside to the Pour House’s parking lot to find that it was already past dawn, and the skies were perfectly clear, the ground dry, as if the storm had never happened.

They got into the Impala and drove the short remaining distance to the motel, staggered to their room, and each fell into bed fully dressed, though Sam had the presence of mind left to kick off his boots, and they both fell deeply sound asleep – too far under to hear their cell phones ringing repeatedly.

***

Claire decided not to tell Jody about transferring money to her until it could actually be done. Maybe not until it _had_ been done, if she could get the bank to cooperate. She wanted to surprise her foster-mother. Sure, she'd told her the money existed. She just hadn't told her of her plans to share, yet. _That_ was the surprise.

She couldn’t reach Sam, Dean, or Donna, yet, but she’d tell them as soon as she could.

That just left Alex, but she was sleeping, not to be disturbed.

So, for the time being, she’d done all she could. She had enough in her account without the insurance money, which was pending, to cover what she wanted to buy today and still get by until the deposit posted, so she headed to the mall, prepared to invade and lay waste to as many shops as she could.

***

Jody decided that she ought to check out what Alex had told her about Amy Daniels, so on her way to the office, she swung by the hospital. She stopped in the administrator’s office to make her visit official, but left the reason for it at “concern for the growing number of sick kids.” The administrator agreed to let her investigate connections between the kids, in order to try to track down an epidemic or airborne disease source, if there was one. He let her know the CDC was supposed to be sending someone as well, but they hadn’t yet arrived.

Once she had permission, she went up to the pediatric ward. Holly Newberry was the charge nurse on duty, and she took Jody around, introducing her to the kids, at Jody’s request, in the reverse of the order they’d been brought in, starting with the two who’d come in the night before, and ending with Amy Daniels.

To Jody’s surprise, none of the children seemed to know any of the others. They all seemed to have taken ill in the early evening, shortly after having gone to bed.

And then she got to Amy’s room. Amy saw her and sat upright in her bed. “You’re a police officer!”

“That’s right, I’m the sheriff. My name is Jody. Are you Amy?”

Amy nodded. “I want to talk to you. My mom and dad said if I ever got lost, I should find a police officer, and they’d help me.”

“And are you lost, Amy?”

Amy nodded gravely.

Jody glanced over at Holly. “Holly, thanks for the tour. I think maybe Amy and I need to have a little chat.”

Holly smiled and nodded. “Okay. Amy, if you need anything, you know how to push the call button.”

Amy drew back like she was little afraid of Holly, but she nodded. “I know, Nurse Holly.”

Holly left the room. Jody smiled at Amy and pulled a chair up next to the bed, sitting in it so they could both be comfortable for their discussion.

“So, Amy. What did you want to talk to me about, honey?”

“I’m only four…but I shouldn’t be,” Amy whispered.

“No? How old should you be?” Jody asked.

“ _Thirty_ -four. I have a twin sister. We turned four in _1989_. I remember it like it was _yesterday_ , but Nurse Alex told me yesterday that 1989 was _thirty years ago_.”

“It was; it’s 2019, now, Amy. What’s your sister’s name?” Jody asked.

“Alma.”

“Okay.”

“Jody…there’s something else.”

“What’s that, honey?”

“The woman who brought me here? She says she’s my mom, but she’s _not_. I don’t know her. I don’t know who she _really_ is, but _she’s **not** my mommy_.”

Jody nodded. “Okay, Amy. Thank you for telling me. I will look into it, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Jody.” Amy fell back against her pillows, pale and weak.

“You look tired, honey. You try to rest. You let Nurse Holly and Nurse Alex help you, okay?

"Hey, you know what? Nurse Alex? She’s my foster-daughter. She told me about you this morning. That’s why I came by.”

“Nurse Alex is your daughter? Really? Then I can trust her.” Amy nodded.

“I think you can trust all the nurses, sweetie.”

“No. Not all of them,” Amy muttered, darkly, but when Jody tried to ask for more details, Amy refused to say more.

Eventually, Jody had to leave, questions about why a nurse would be a source of fear unanswered.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get back to Dean's therapy, but remember, it's only Friday morning. His next appointment isn't until Tuesday afternoon, and this case is keeping them busy. Which keeps him out of his head, which is probably a good thing, given what's he's already discovered after only 2 appointments so far! ;)
> 
> I know that on the show, Claire's been a hardass to Cas, but I like to think that their relationship has mellowed, and that given the opportunity to do something nice, she would. I think she'd include Sam, Dean, Jody, and Alex in her good fortune, as well.
> 
> If you're still reading, please comment and let me know. I feel like this story gets shuffled off the first page or so pretty quickly, so I'm not sure people are keeping up with it. I hope you're enjoying reading; I'm enjoying writing. :)


	22. Feelings...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes for his run. Jody calls Donna. Dean takes an unfortunate shower, then journals, then speaks with Sam and gives him the previous day's journal entry to read.

Sam groaned as he opened his eyes.

_Too much light in here._

He sat up anyway, and peered at his watch. 9:30.

_Three hours’ sleep will have to do. I didn't intend more than that, anyway._

He changed into his running clothes, pulled on his running shoes, grabbed his cell phone, wallet, and keys, and glanced over at Dean – still sound asleep – before slipping out the door to go for the run he’d promised himself the day before. Didn’t matter that they’d had a ghost talking to them for the better part of the night, after he’d dug up and burned a grave.

 _I need this_.

At least he hadn’t had _the dream_. The _nightmare_ , really. The same one that he’d been having since the wall created by Death to keep the memories of the damage done to his soul in the Cage had fallen. Even though Cas had taken the damage to his soul, Sam still had the memories, and _the dream_. He’d never told Cas that, though. He knew the angel already felt badly that he hadn’t managed to recover Sam’s soul in the first place, and that Death had had to go back for it, a year later.

_Speaking of Cas…._

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and checked his messages. Not that he was necessarily expecting to see any from Cas, in particular, but he’d left so many for Cas in the past few weeks that had been unreturned, he’d feel hypocritical in the extreme if he failed to return one from Cas, now. But no, nothing from Cas – but Claire had called, a few times. He hit dial to call her back.

“Sam! You got my messages!” he heard, when she picked up immediately.

“Well, I saw they were there. I didn’t actually listen to them. What’s up?” Sam huffed a little, continuing to run.

“Are you running while calling? I swear, you’re the only hunter I know who actually exercises,” Claire laughed. “Anyway, the reason I called, Sam, is that I need to get some information from you and Dean.”

“Oh? Having an unusual hunt?”

“Nope, not that kind of information, Sam.” Claire wanted to string this out just a little. It was fun, and she didn’t really get to tease Sam all that often.

“Okay. What d’you need, then, hon?” Sam ran in place at an intersection, waiting for the light.

“I need your bank account and routing numbers.”

“Um. Why? Are you a Nigerian prince, Claire?”

“Kinda, but in this case, the offer’s _real_ , Sam.” Claire grinned.

“Wait, what? What do you mean? _What_ offer?” Sam crossed the street as the light turned, and kept running up the street.

“Sam, my dad’s life insur….” The connection fizzled out, and the call ended.

Sam shrugged and kept running. If it was important, Claire would call again, or he would, after his run. But for now, he needed to focus.

_Breathe, Sam. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. You’re not in the Cage. Lucifer’s dead. You’re free._

He increased his speed. Focused on his breathing, and the sound of his feet pounding the pavement. He needed this.

_In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. You’re free. He’s dead. The Cage is just a memory. You’re not there. It’s okay. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out._

***

Once at the office, Jody dealt with some paperwork. Around 10:00, she decided she’d earned her break. She pulled out her calendar, then got her cell phone out, and called Donna.

“Oh, heya, Jody. How’s it goin’ there, hon?” Donna answered.

“It’s going pretty well, Donna. Listen, I told Claire and Alex your news, about how you finally told off Doug, and they agree with me that this is something that needs to be _celebrated_. And then Claire had some big news of her own, and I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it when she calls, later. Now, Alex is all tied up at the hospital, they’re shorthanded and have some weird epidemic thing going on in the pediatric ward, so she’s stuck working double shifts. But Claire and I want to road trip up to see you, and have a movie night. So, I’m calling to find out when that might work for you?”

“Movie night, eh? Sounds _good_. Let me get my calendar here,” Donna fidgeted with the drawer for a second, then yanked it open, and pulled out her daybook. “Lessee. _This_ weekend, I have to go to Milwaukee, my cousin Allison’s getting married, it’s a big family _do_ kinda thing. But _next_ weekend, I got nothin’, if you two wanna come then?”

“You’re on! We will be there, say, Saturday, early afternoon? Stay over and drive back on Sunday?”

“Well, if you wanted, you could come on _Friday_ evening, after work. We could have a late dinner while we get started on movies, have ourselves a marathon, stay up all night, and then just be lazy on Saturday, then you could drive back Sunday. But it’s up to you two. Just let me know. I’m up for whatever.”

“I’ll check with Claire, but Friday might be do-able. I’ll have her confirm when she calls you with her news.”

“Okay. And thanks, Jody. You guys wanting to celebrate this with me is really somethin’ special.” Donna smiled softly as she ended the call.

It was good to have friends she could count on.

***

Dean woke slowly. He yawned, stretching, as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before opening his eyes. “Sammy?” he called.

_Hmm. No Sam. I wonder when he got up this morning._

He stood and moved into the bathroom, stripping as he went. He turned on the shower and used the toilet while waiting for the water to heat up. Then he moved under the hot spray, turning his face up to it, eyes closed tight. He turned, let the hot water ease the tension in his shoulders and back. He washed his hair, and leaned back to rinse the shampoo. And then the hot water ran out and he gasped as the cold spray hit his heated skin. He desperately twisted the handle to turn the water off completely, shivering.

_Shit! Fuck! About froze my damned balls off!_

His teeth were chattering as he left the bathroom, searching for warm clothes in his duffel bag. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and one of Sam’s old Stanford sweatshirts, and got into them as quickly as possible, then dove back into bed and pulled up the covers, still trembling from the shock of the cold water.

The warm covers and clothes brought his body temperature up to a more normal range in short order, and he got back up, and made coffee. He downed half the cup in a few gulps for the heat, then seated himself at the desk, to nurse the rest of the cup more slowly, as he reviewed the journal entry from the night before.

He uncapped his pen, and turned to a fresh page.

***

_It seems so much is happening so quickly, all of a sudden, but I’m no closer to understanding my own past. I mean, I get what Cas told Sam, and it makes perfect sense. And for once, I’m not even **tempted** to blame Cas. I know, for a certainty, that he **absolutely** did the best he could in the time he had, and if he **could** have done more, he **would** have. This is so so **not** on Cas. I’m sure **he** thinks it is, though, and I’m going to have to remind myself to tell him that it’s not, in a way that makes him believe that I **mean** it._

_**Dammit**. That shouldn’t take a special effort. He’s my best friend, my other brother. What does it say about how badly I’ve fucked things up between us, that I have to be careful about how I phrase the way I tell him that something that isn’t his fault, isn’t his fault? Shit. I’m pathetic._

_Sam was right. I blame Cas for **everything** , make him into my whipping boy, and then wonder why he leaves. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cas **never** came home. It’s my fault. I push and I push and I push him away. And that’s on me. Completely on me. It’s all my fault._

_I suppose I should accept the consequences of my actions and just admit it – **Cas is better off without me**. Tell him that for his own sake, **he shouldn’t come back** , but should go find someone who’ll accept him for who he is, instead of always making him feel like a failure._

_Because Cas **isn’t** a failure. He’s never failed at **anything** – except at getting me to believe that I deserve to have him in my life. That I deserve to be saved. Loved. That I deserve to have an Angel of the Lord as my best friend, in my life, as part of my family._

_Because I **don’t** believe any of that. I never have. And maybe that’s my dad’s influence, or maybe it’s Alastair’s, or maybe it’s just … the truth. I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore._

_All I know is that Cas deserves to be **happy** , and I’ve never been able to make him happy._

_But then again … I’ve never **tried**._

_Because really, what’s the point? I’ll **fail**._

_Because of the two of us … **I’m** the failure. Not Cas._

***

He wasn’t really done, but he heard Sam’s key turning in the lock, so he closed the notebook.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Brought you some decent coffee, and some muffins. There’s a bakery just down the road a ways. The muffins might even still be warm. It’s not all that cold out.”

“Thanks. Be careful, if you shower. The hot water cut out on me in the middle of mine.”

“Ouch. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Yeah. Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“I’d like for you to read the journal entry that I wrote yesterday. Just that one. But I think it will help you to see things from my perspective, maybe, and I think that might help. Like I said, Sam, I don’t want to shut you out. Will you read it?”

“Sure, Dean. Right now?”

“Um…if you want. If you want to get changed or take a shower first, or something, that’s fine, too.”

“No. This is important. The other stuff can wait. Although, at some point, I need to call Claire. Did you have messages from her, too?”

“I haven’t even looked, actually.”

Dean grabbed his cell phone, and looked – five voice mail messages from Claire. “Um, yeah, I’ve got like five messages from her.”

“Yeah, me too. I hadn’t listened to them, just tried to call her back, but the reception here sucks, and the call got dropped. So I’ll call her back in a bit.

"But now, yeah, let me see the entry you want me to read, and tell me where to start and stop, Dean. I won’t read more than you want me to, promise.”

Dean opened the notebook, found the right page, and carried it over to where Sam was sitting on the bed. He showed Sam where to start and stop, then moved to his own bed, and sat down, hugging his knees, to wait.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In less than 3 hours, this story had sunk to p. 6, so I really hope people are finding it. I appreciate the comment.
> 
> Please let me know what you're thinking? :)


	23. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reads Dean's journal and confounds Dean's expectations. Sam talks to Claire.

Sam read through the journal entry three times, slowly. Then he closed the notebook, and looked up at Dean.

“Do you get it now, Sam? Do you get why taking the deal was _wrong, and my choice, and my error, and my responsibility_?” Dean demanded.

“I get why you _think_ it is, Dean. You asked me not to argue with you about it, so I won’t.

"On a different topic, though, you’re wrong about Cas. He’s not infallible, any more than Claire, Jody, Donna, or I am. He makes mistakes, too. And he grieves over them endlessly. He didn’t leave because you hurt him, Dean. He left because he has even more self-loathing than you do, and that’s saying a lot. When you tell him he’s to blame, he believes it – _because he already thinks so_. You don’t have to push him out the door, he’s almost always on the edge of leaving, because he doesn’t believe he deserves _you_. You’re both _idjits_ , and you need to just talk to each other, for fuck’s sake.”

“Wait, _that’s_ what you focused on? The bit in there about **_Cas_**? I shouldn’t have had you read the damn thing. I should have read you just the bit….” Dean grumbled until Sam cut him off.

“ _You_ told me where to start and stop, Dean. And in the part about where you thought I was wrong, where you think you had no right to make the deal you made, you _specifically_ asked me not to argue with you.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean don’t talk about it at all.” Dean almost pouted.

“Sure it does, Dean. _Because you’re wrong_.” Sam smiled softly at his brother. “The comparison to Donna’s situation is entirely valid. You just don’t want to believe it, because you’re so stuck on blaming yourself for things over which you had absolutely no control, things you categorically could neither help nor change. But you don’t want me to argue the point, so I was gonna let it go.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t argue about what you said about you and Cas. And I think you need to hear this again, Dean. _Cas did not leave because you pushed him away_. Cas left because his own feelings of guilt are eating him alive, and they would be, _even if he didn’t think that you blame him, too_. But he _does_ think that, and it **_kills_ **him, because he cares what _you think_ , Dean. Out of everyone on the planet, _Cas cares most about what you think of him_. But even if you told him you don’t think he’s to blame for, say, Mom’s death – he’d nod and be grateful to you for telling him that, but he’d go on feeling just as damned guilty, _because he blames himself_.

“And by the way – you’re welcome. And for the record, Dean, you’ve _never_ failed me. You raised me. You’ve saved my life I don’t know how many times, you literally saved my _soul_ at least a couple of times. You went to Hell for me. You’re my brother, Dean. Of course I believe in you. Why wouldn’t I? _You’re my hero_.”

Dean looked suspiciously at Sam, squinted and peered at him, waiting for the patient, softly smiling façade to crack. Waited for the mocking jest he was sure would follow that announcement. But Sam just sat there, patiently waiting for Dean to accept that he meant what he’d said.

“Stop it, Sam.”

“I mean it, D.”

“Sammy, cut it out.” A tear rolled down Dean’s cheek, then another. And another, until his face was flooded. But Sam just continued to sit there, waiting for him to believe.

“D, c’mere.” Sam held out his arms. Dean shook his head.

“Dammit, Sam, I’m no hero. I’m broken. _I’m broken_ , I-I’m a total _fuck-up_. You can’t believe that, Sam, you _can’t_ ,” Dean sobbed.

Seeing that Dean wasn’t coming to him, Sam got up and came to him, pulling Dean up into a hug. “Hush, D. Of _course_ I believe it. It’s _true_. It’s all true. You’re _not_ broken, Dean. You’re _not_ a fuck-up. You’re one of the best men I know. It’s okay. Shhh.”

Dean curled up against his brother, shaking his head in denial, tears streaming, but letting Sam give him comfort.

And again, within Dean’s battered psyche, the tiny shimmer of light, the one that had come into being when Sam first told him that he wasn’t at fault for taking Alastair’s deal, got a tad stronger, shone a bit brighter, and started to warm Dean’s soul.

***

Sam tucked Dean back into bed, and got him two of the migraine pills and a glass of water. He helped him sit up to take the meds, then shut off the light.

“I’ll be back in a bit with lunch. You get some rest, D.” Sam slipped out the door, remembering to grab his cell phone off the desk on the way out.

He dialed Claire as he was backing the Impala out of the parking space.

“Sam! I’m glad you called me back!”

“Hey, kiddo, sorry, cell reception isn’t great, here. So, what’s this ‘offer’ you mentioned earlier?” Sam asked.

“My dad’s life insurance finally paid out, Sam. Remember, you helped me with the paperwork to file the claim?”

Sam had a dim recollection. “Wasn’t that back, like, almost _eight years ago_?”

“Yeah. Because his body was never found - because, as we know, but they don’t, Cas is _using_ it – the insurance company insisted that he was ‘missing, presumed dead,’ but that wasn’t enough to pay out. But after seven years, ‘missing, presumed dead’ became ‘declared legally deceased,’ and they had no choice. So, I finally got a check in the mail yesterday.”

“Okay, but what’s the ‘offer’, Claire? I’m confused,” Sam admitted.

“Well, here’s the thing, Sam. Without your help, I wouldn’t even have filed a _claim_. And without you, and Dean, I wouldn’t have a family at all, much less the kick-ass family I do have. So, I decided, when I saw the check yesterday, and how ridiculously big it is, that I have to share the love. So, pony up your bank account and routing numbers, Sam, so I can transfer you some cash.”

“Claire, no. I’m not taking your money.”

“Gee, you sound like Cas. But I talked him into it, and _I’ll get you, too, my pretty_.” Claire cackled, doing her best Wicked Witch of the West impression. “C’mon, Sam. If you don’t give me the info for a wire transfer, I’ll just mail Dean a check made payable to you and get him to deposit it for you. You know he will.”

“Claire, that’s blackmail.”

“Yeah. Is it working? Sheesh, I swear, I had this exact conversation with Cas, Sam. _Just say yes_.” Claire acted annoyed, but she loved teasing Sam, and this was fun.

“Am I allowed to know how much you propose to send to me, Claire?” Sam asked.

“Sure, but I don’t _propose_ to send it; _I’m sending it_ , one way or another, Sam.”

“Claire. _How. Much?_ ”

“For you, Sam, I’m thinking one million. Because you helped with the paperwork.” Claire grinned.

Sam pulled the Impala over to the side of the road and put it in park. “One million…what? _Pesos? Rubles? Monopoly money?_ ”

“ _Dollars_ , Sam. The check I received was for just over eight million. And it wouldn’t have been that much, except that _you_ found that rider clause, about how if they contested the claim and delayed payment, but eventually had to pay out, then they had to pay a penalty, plus interest on the entire amount. So, you _earned_ it, Sam. See, you’re kind of a lawyer, after all.” Claire giggled.

“No. Claire, just…no. I can’t take that from you, no.” Sam blinked and shook his head in disbelief.

“Sure you can, Sam. I’m keeping just over three million for myself. I want to give you and Jody each one million, and then I want to give Dean, Cas, Alex, and Donna each seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. I did the math. Seriously, Sam, I know none of you were looking for that, I know you’re not asking for it, I want to do this. You all have given me so damn much; can’t I give just a little back? Can’t I share my good fortune with my family, Sam? _Please_? I don’t want you and Dean hustling pool and committing credit card fraud anymore. I can take care of you guys, now. Let me.” Claire sniffled a little.

“Claire, no sniffling, that’s _so_ not fair.” Sam was weakening, and Claire knew it.

“ _ **Cas** said yes_, Sam.”

“Really? _Cas_ said _yes_ to this, Claire?

“Well, sort of. He wasn’t entirely _happy_ about it, he wouldn’t be _Cas_ if he didn’t find some way to be guilt-ridden. But he agreed, on two conditions – first, that he gets to decide if and when he uses the money, and I can’t ride him about using it or not, and second, that he be allowed to leave any remainder back to me or my children in his will. And since we all know that Cas isn’t dying any time soon, as long as he has grace – which, by the way, he says is replenishing itself because he’s spending time with nature, whatever that means – I’m fine with that.

“Look, Sam, please, _just take this money_. If you decide you don’t want to use it, fine, but at least you’d have some kind of security. I love you guys. You’re my family. You, Dean, Cas, Alex, Jody, Donna – the six of you are all I’ve got. You’ve all taken care of me, in one way or another, since I turned ten. It’s my turn to take care of you, now.”

Sam sighed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Can I talk it over with Dean?”

“Sure, but it isn’t going to change my mind. I’m doing this, Sam. Hey, you guys are the ones who told me that _family don’t end with blood_.”

“Low blow, Claire.”

“Best kind, Sam.” Claire grinned.

“I gotta go get lunch. Dean’s got a migraine, I wanna get back to him. We’re on a crazy case here. But tell Jody I’ll call her later, okay? And I’ll…I’ll talk to Dean, Claire. Pretty sure he’s not gonna want money from you, either. But I’ll talk to him. Gotta go, hon.”

“Bye, Sam.”

Sam ended the call and sat very still. _One million for him and seven hundred fifty thousand for Dean?_ That would keep them in groceries and whatever else for the rest of their lives.

It could change their lives. It _would_ change their lives, if they weren’t careful.

**_Holy shit._ **

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's supportive, here, but remember, he's on a cliff-edge, too, and he'll snap, eventually.
> 
> Comment, or I stop writing. I'm resorting to threats, here, people. ;)


	24. Time to Do Some Digging...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean talk about Claire's offer. Jody investigates the sick kids' lack of connections to each other.

Sam entered the motel room quietly and set the bags of fast food down on the desk. He looked over at Dean, and saw that he was still asleep. Thinking it best to let him rest, Sam pulled out his own lunch and sat down at the desk to eat it. He pulled out his laptop and started digging online to be sure that both Becky, his ex-wife, and Amelia, his former girlfriend, were both still alive and kicking. He’d never loved Becky, and she’d trapped him in marriage with a love potion she’d unwittingly obtained from a crossroads demon, but he didn’t want her dead. And Amelia… well, he still had a soft spot there, truth be told.

After a few moments' searching, he’d ascertained that Becky was not only still alive, but remarried with two kids, and that the message on Facebook from her that he’d been avoiding had been, in fact, an invitation to her wedding – and an apology.

_Oops._

He sent her a message apologizing for having missed the message – and the wedding.

After a few moments more, he’d determined that Amelia was still working as a vet, and was still with her husband, Don. Don had been missing in action, presumed dead, when Sam and Amelia had been together, and had come back from overseas right around the same time that Dean had returned from a year in Purgatory. Sam still thought leaving Amelia had been the right choice, but sometimes, on the rare night when he got back to sleep after the nightmare and had long enough to fall back into a REM cycle and dream again, he found himself dreaming of her, and of what might have been. If there’d been no Don. If Dean hadn’t fought his way out of Purgatory. If…if…if….

Sam sighed, and shut the laptop.

 _At least they're okay_.

And maybe that meant he wasn’t cursed, after all.

_Or maybe I was, but it's somehow been lifted._

“Sam?” Dean sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Hey, Dean. It’s just after one o’clock. Hungry? I’ve got a couple burgers and some fries for you, here.”

“God, yes. Starving, actually.” Dean got up and came over to investigate the food. Sam handed him the bag.

“One of those burgers is mine,” Sam informed him. “I ran about twenty miles this morning; a salad isn’t enough.”

“Good grief. You training for another marathon or somethin’?”

“Maybe. Hey, I spoke to Claire, found out what the messages were about.”

“Yeah? She okay?”

“More than, Dean. And if she gets her way… _you and I_ might be more than okay, too.”

“Wait…what? _Explain_.” Dean took a bite of his burger and closed his eyes to enjoy the taste, but Sam knew he was still listening.

“Well, her dad – you remember Jimmy – died back in 2009, but no one thought to do anything about any sort of life insurance claim at the time. When we found Claire again in 2011, I thought of that, and I helped her with the paperwork to file a claim.”

“Okay, good for you. And?”

“Well, Jimmy’s body, for obvious reasons, was never found, so the insurer insisted on labeling him ‘missing, presumed dead.’ But after seven years, his status changed to ‘legally declared deceased.’ Long story short – too late – the insurance company finally had to pay out, and Claire got a check yesterday – _for just over eight million dollars_.”

Dean choked on his burger and coughed, sputtering. “Good grief.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not all. Claire’s decided she wants to ‘share the love,’ as she put it. She says that Cas, you, me, Jody, Alex, and Donna – the six of us are the ‘kick-ass family’ she has now and that she wants to take care of all of us. She wants to give each of us a rather substantial amount of money, to give us ‘security’ even if we decide to never touch it.”

“How much is ‘rather substantial,’ Sam?” Dean asked.

“Well, she wants to give Jody a million dollars, as a thank you for taking her in and caring. And a million to me, for helping with the paperwork. And to you, Cas, Alex, and Donna – seven hundred fifty thousand dollars each.”

Dean froze, burger halfway to his mouth. He blinked. He set the burger back down. He blinked again.

“I’m sorry. I thought you said Claire wanted to give me _seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars_.”

“And me one million. Yeah.”

Dean blinked again. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Well, _shit_. I mean, obviously, we can’t take Claire’s money from her.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I said, too. She’s determined to do this, D. Says she doesn’t want to worry about us hustling pool and committing credit card fraud. She said we were the ones who taught her that ‘family don’t end in blood,’ she loves us, she wants to take care of us, and she’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Well, it’s the only answer I got, Sammy. _No._ No way am I taking money from Claire. You realize that if she goes with the figures you named, she’s giving away more’n she’s keeping, right? No. Just…no.”

“I hear you, D. I agree. But she’s determined. Oh, and she said Cas said yes, by the way, with two conditions.”

Dean rubbed his face, and rolled his eyes. “Do I even want to know what the conditions are?” he asked, in a slightly amused tone.

“First, that he gets to decide if and when he uses the money, and she can’t ride him about it.”

“Oh, I like that one. And the second?”

“Second, that he leaves whatever he doesn’t use back to her, or to her children, in his will.”

Dean looked up at that. “ _Cas_ has a _will_? What does **_Cas_ **need with a _will_?”

“Nothing. That’s why Claire was okay with the second condition. She said that he told her his grace is regenerating as he spends time with nature; as long as he has grace available to heal himself, he’s not going to die, so she’s not worried that the money she gives him will come back to her anytime soon.”

Dean’s relief was palpable. “Cas’ grace is regenerating. That’s…that’s good. I’ve been worried.”

Sam clapped Dean’s shoulder companionably. “Eat your burger, Dean. After lunch, I’m gonna call Jody, see if she can find out where the Daniels’ car was taken after it was impounded following the crash, and do some research, see if I can dig up anything on Amy Daniels.”

***

Jody pulled her police cruiser up in front of the address listed on Amy Daniels’ hospital admission form. The hospital administrator had provided the police with copies of the paperwork for each child involved in what they were loosely calling “the epidemic,” even though they didn’t know if there was an actual connection, or how the illness was passed from one child to the next.

Jody went up to the door, looked around a bit, knocked, and waited. From inside, she heard a voice calling, “Just a second, just a second, I’m coming,” so she didn’t bother to knock again. The door opened, and an elderly woman peered out through the screen. “Can I help you?”

“Mrs. Daniels?”

“No. I'm Emily Stinson. But my daughter's last name is Daniels. What's this about, Sheriff?”

“I’m investigating the connections between the children who’ve landed in the hospital, including your daughter, looking for a link between them, trying to figure out how this illness is spreading itself. May I come in?”

“Oh. Of course.” The woman pushed the screen door open, and stood back to let Jody in.

Jody looked around a little as the woman guided her from the foyer into the living room. They both sat on the couch in front of the large picture window.

“Ma’am, I appreciate your time, and I understand that it’s difficult for you, with your daughter being in the hospital, so thank you for being willing to speak with me.”

“Oh, well, I’m happy to try to help those children. But I should clarify, Sheriff. I’m not Amy’s mother.”

“I…I see. May I ask where Amy’s parents are?”

“They’re deceased, Sheriff. I was a friend of Amy’s mother, Anya. When they died, I took Amy in. She has no one else.”

“Well, I’m glad that she has you, then. Ms. Stinson, I spoke with Amy earlier, and I’m concerned. She seems to think that it should be….”

“Let me guess – _1989_?” Ms. Stinson laughed a little. “That’s a little game we play, Sheriff. Each month, we pretend it’s a specific year from the past. We go online and find out what was popular that year. We look up songs, artists, and TV shows from that year, we listen to the songs, we watch some of the shows on Netflix, we go to the thrift shop to see if we can we find clothes that would have been fashionable that year, and wear them around the house. This month, our year from the past is 1989.”

“She also said that she had a twin sister, named Alma, that’s missing.”

“Alma is Amy’s name for her imaginary friend, Sheriff. She never had an actual twin.”

“I see. Well, thank you for clarifying that. Now, these pictures here, these are the other children who are sick. Outside of the hospital, do you remember ever having seen any of them?”

Jody led Ms. Stinson through the photos, but was unsurprised when the woman denied recognition of any of the other kids, since no one had, as yet, been able to establish a connection between any of them.

“Does Amy attend a daycare?”

“No. I’m retired, so I just take care of her here at home.”

“Can I get the names of Amy’s pediatrician and dentist? I don’t mean to be nosy, but we’re just trying to find any link between these kids.”

“Well, she hasn’t been to the dentist in about a year, so that probably wouldn’t be helpful. Her pediatrician is Dr. Sandberg, over on Talbot.”

Jody flipped through the other kids’ admission forms, but Dr. Sandberg wasn’t listed on anyone else’s form.

“Do you go to church? Does Amy attend a Sunday school, maybe?”

“Well…. I go, sometimes, when I feel up to it. I’m afraid Amy doesn’t attend with any sort of regularity.”

“Has she been to church lately, in the last month, or so?”

“I don’t believe so. I think the last time I took Amy with me to church was over Labor Day weekend, there was a picnic, and we went to that.”

“Too long ago. Is there anyone, a relative or a babysitter, who takes Amy out? Or who cares for her when you’re not feeling well?”

“No. Is there anything else, Sheriff? I’d like to get over to the hospital to see Amy, and I have some other errands that I need to run before it gets dark.”

“No, Ms. Stinson, thank you. If I think of anything else, is there a phone number I can use to call you? The hospital admission form doesn’t have a contact number, just your address.”

“Oh, yes, of course, dear.”

Jody got the phone number, then took her leave.

_Ms. Stinson seems to have an answer for everything, but her answers don’t match up with Amy’s distress. Time to do some digging._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's totally an empty threat to say I won't keep writing. *sigh* Please comment anyway? *hopeful look*


	25. Need for Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's concern has Sam snappish and pissed off. Dean finishes his Friday journal entry. Dean apologizes and makes Sam an offer.

Dean came out of the bathroom and noticed that Sam was looking more than a little worse for wear. Thinking back, he realized Sam couldn’t have gotten more than three hours’ sleep the night before – after digging, burning, and refilling a grave, and having an hours-long conversation with a ghost – and then he said he’d run _twenty miles_ this morning.

“Sammy.” Dean snapped his fingers over the laptop when Sam didn’t acknowledge him.

“Hmm? Oh, hey, D. ‘Sup?” Sam looked up at him blearily.

“What’s up is you, little brother. But you shouldn’t be. You’re fucking exhausted. Go lie down. Get some sleep.”

Sam shook his head stubbornly.

“I’m fine, Dean. I still have things to do. I’ll sleep later.”

“You’ll sleep _now_ , Sam.” Dean closed the laptop. “ _I’ll_ call Jody. _You_ will lie down.”

“ _Dammit_ , Dean, I said I have things to _do_! I’m not six anymore, okay? _Jesus Christ_.” Seriously annoyed, Sam re-opened the laptop and refused to even look at Dean.

Dean leaned against the desk and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

“Sam,” he said, quietly, gently. “Can I ask you to please take care of yourself?”

“Dean, I appreciate the concern. I have things I need to do. I will sleep _later_ , I promise.” Sam gentled his tone, a little, but was still firm, and clearly more than a little pissed.

Dean moved around behind Sam and put his hands on his shoulders. He leaned forward and slid his arms around, and hugged Sam.

“Okay. Sorry I pissed you off.” He straightened up, went over to his duffel bag, pulled out his pen and notebook and went to sit on the bed, back to the wall.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. He looked over at Dean, his annoyance gone, for the moment. Then he went back to his online research.

Dean opened the notebook to the entry he’d started that morning. He realized he’d neglected to date it, so he added in “ _Friday morning_ ” at the top, and re-read what he’d written.

And then he uncapped his pen, and started to write.

*******

**_(Continuing on) Friday afternoon_ **

_I wasn’t finished with this entry, but Sam came in, and I needed him to read the last one, so I put this one away._

_As I expected, he didn’t agree with me about my being to blame for taking the deal, and breaking the first seal. But to my utter shock, he **also** respected my request not to argue with me about it. Of course, I then immediately prodded him into an argument about it._

_But he didn’t argue for long, because what he really wanted to talk about, his take-away from reading the entry, was what I’d said about **Cas**. He said that I was wrong to believe in Cas’ infallibility, that Cas makes just as many mistakes as he, Jody, or Donna, or anyone else. And that Cas “grieves over them endlessly.” That Cas didn’t leave because I pushed him away – which Claire said, too – but because Cas’ own “feelings of guilt were eating him alive,” and that they would be, even if Cas didn’t think that I blamed him, too. But Cas “does think that, and it kills him, because Cas cares” what I think. Sam actually said that, “out of everyone on the planet, **Cas cares most about what you think of him**.”_

_That kind of blew me away. I know Cas has said that he and I have “a more profound bond” – but to say that out of everyone, **I matter most to him**? Why? **Why me**?_

_I mean, I get why he saved me from Hell – Cas was a warrior, and it was a **mission**. And I think he regarded it as his mission after that to kind of become my guardian angel. But it wasn’t because I’m anything special. The whole reason Heaven wanted me saved was so I could become Michael’s vessel – but I said no, and Adam said yes, instead, and so Michael and Adam fell into the Cage with Lucifer and Sam, and **it should’ve been me**. I should’ve gone back to Hell with Sam. But I couldn’t face it._

_And after, I couldn’t face what I’d done, leaving both of my little brothers in the Cage – one in what should have been **my** place – so I told myself I was honoring Sam’s request, and I went to Lisa and Ben, and let myself believe that I could have them, at least. Wrong again._

_Cas pulled Sam’s body out of the Cage, not realizing he didn’t also retrieve Sam’s soul. For a year, Sam, soulless, hunted without me, without telling me he was alive. He let me play house with Lisa and Ben, let me pretend I had a nice little suburban family life. Smoke and fucking mirrors, that’s all **that** was._

_And because I “remembered” Dad drilling me over and over about precaution and safety and protection – whether those memories were real, or not, I don’t know, now – I made Lisa and Ben miserable, and the instant Sam let me know he was walking, I deserted them. Eventually, I had Cas erase me from their memories._

_Oy, there’s a parallel. He couldn’t **fix** my memories, and then I made him **erase** theirs. No wonder Cas hates me._

_Sam’s just wrong. I can’t possibly matter to Cas as much as Sam thinks._

_But then Sam blew me away even further. He said, “And by the way – you’re welcome. And for the record, Dean, you’ve never failed me. You raised me. You’ve saved my life I don’t know how many times, you literally saved my soul at least a couple of times. You went to Hell for me. You’re my brother, Dean. Of course I believe in you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re my hero.”_

_I can’t even fathom that. I **can’t** be Sam’s hero. Hell, I can’t be **anyone’s** hero. I’m a **coward**._

_I’m a filthy fucking coward, or I would have said yes to Michael in order to save Adam. Failing that, I would have tried to do something to get both Sam and Adam free from the cage – Hell, Adam’s still in it; Death gave me a choice, he could go for only one of them, and I had to choose, and I chose Sam – but no, I left that to Cas to do on his own, didn’t even ask him if he was going to try to save them, much less offer to help, much less **actually** help._

_And then I blamed Cas for not doing enough when I found out that he’d only retrieved Sam’s body, and Death had to go back for Sam’s soul. By then, so much damage had been done to Sam that Death had to wall it off from Sam’s conscious mind._

_Of course, I blamed Cas for that, too, and pushed him into doing something about it when the wall started to crack, so Cas actually took that damage into himself, willingly, to save Sam from going insane. **And that’s me, hurting Cas, again**._

_Over and over and over again. It’s all I do. I’m a coward, so, I hurt my best friend on purpose, because if I push him away, at least when he leaves, it’s not because he **wants** to go, it’s because I **made** him go._

_If I thought he’d left without me doing something to cause it, simply because he **wanted** to go? I couldn’t take it. It’d kill me._

_But…Sam said today that Cas **didn’t** leave because of me pushing him away. And Claire said the same…._

_**Fuck**._

_No. They’re wrong. They have to be wrong. **Dammit, THEY HAVE TO BE WRONG!**_

_Shit. They’re **not** wrong._

_I’m so confused._

_I’m so tired._

_I’m just so fucking **tired**. Tired of worrying about whether he’ll stay, or whether he’ll go. About if he’ll run out of grace and be human and die, or if he’ll get his grace back (I guess he told Claire it’s regenerating, so that’s good, at least)._

_I said on Wednesday that I was finding journaling to be liberating. I still kind of think that, but fuck, this is **hard**. For so long I’ve pushed all this crap down so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. And now…it’s all bubbling up to the surface, like a dinosaur corpse in a tar pit._

_I **cried** today. I almost **never** cry. I can probably count on one hand…well, maybe both… the number of times in my life that I’ve let go enough to do that. _

_When Sammy said I was his hero, I just couldn’t hold it back. I outright bawled in his arms like a little kid._

_First, I cried in Mia’s office, now in front of Sam. Ugh._

_I guess I needed it. I’ve been pushing things down, viciously, for longer than I can remember. I guess it needs to come out._

_And Sammy took care of **me** , tucked me in, brought my migraine meds, made sure I got rest. I fucking love that kid. _

_Except he’s **not** a kid, and I need to remember that. I pissed him off today, trying to take care of him like I used to when he was little. He’s not little, and I need to respect that, and him, and not interfere and play big brother caretaker._

_Now if he’d only take care of himself…._

***

Dean shut the notebook, capped the pen, and looked over at Sam, who was still hacking away at his research. Sam frankly looked like shit.

_I can’t take it._

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yes, Dean?” Sam looked up and gave him one of his patented “bitchface” looks. The one that said that Dean was on his last good nerve, and best get off it, quick.

_Sam’s still pissy. Great._

“I apologize.”

Sam stopped typing, and looked up, peering at Dean over the laptop’s screen. “For what?”

“For earlier. You’re not a kid. I need to respect the choices you make for yourself, and not interfere.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Dean Winchester?” Sam grinned.

“You want me to eat salt and drink holy water, Bitch?” Dean asked, wryly, but then he grinned back.

“Jerk.”

“I love you, Sam, and I worry. You don’t look good. So, if you won’t let me take care of you, at least, please, take care of yourself, okay? I’m asking. I’m trying to respect that you’re an adult, and it’s your choice to work through it, but it’s hard for me to resist the urge to take care of my little brother. I’m gonna fuck up. But I am trying.” Dean spoke quietly.

Sam sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. “I appreciate that, Dean. I know you’re concerned. I’ll tell you, honestly, you’re not wrong to be. But I have my reasons, okay? I’m doing what I need to do. Hey, I ate a burger, remember? I acknowledged that my ‘rabbit food’ was insufficient after running twenty miles? Remember, Dad used to say, ‘food is sleep and sleep is food’?”

“Yeah, well, Dad’s maxims for healthy living don’t exactly cut it, Sam. But yeah, I get that you’re trying. Look, you’ve been doing all the work today, and you did a lot yesterday. Can I make you an offer, and you can consider it?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll take the call to Jody. You finish up whatever one last thing that you’re working on now, then you take a break, get washed up, whatever. We need to go check out the crash site, so maybe we take a drive, get some air. And when we get back, if you want to work, you can, and I won’t say anything. Is that fair?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, D. That’s fair. Thanks.”

Dean nodded back, and got up to get his cell phone from the desk. As he was reaching for it, Sam stretched out his arm, and gently grabbed Dean’s wrist.

“Hey, D. _Really_. Thanks. I _do_ appreciate the concern.”

“Okay. At some point, you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Maybe. Probably.” Sam smiled sweetly, and for a moment, Dean could once again see the six-year-old Sam in his eyes.

Then Sam looked down at the laptop and took his hand back to start typing again.

Dean took a breath, got his phone, and turned toward the door.

He needed some air while he made this call.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt our regularly scheduled case of the week to give you more of Dean's therapy. He's making a little progress, at least on his attitude toward Sam. His attitude about himself, not so much. 
> 
> A comment or sixty would not be amiss, here. Seriously, they're like crack. But healthier.
> 
> And clearly, I can't threaten you with an "I'll stop writing." Because I clearly won't. This one's not letting go. ;)


	26. Fuck You Very Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to refuse Claire's offer, but it goes badly off the rails. Cas steps in to deal with the fallout.

Dean went out into the parking lot and leaned back against Baby. He called Jody, but got her voice mail. He left a brief message, asking her to check into where the Daniels’ car went after being impounded.

After ending that call, he paused for a second, then dialed Claire.

“Hey, Dean. Sam tell you yet?” her cheerful voice asked upon answering.

“Yes, brat. We don’t want your money, Claire-Bear.”

“I know you don’t, D. You’d never in a million years ask for a dime. Too fucking bad. I’m doing this. If you don’t take it voluntarily, I’ll set up a trust fund for each of you. But that money’s yours. So there, too!” Claire giggled.

“Claire. Hon. I can’t take your money. Just…no. I don’t deserve it.”

“I know you believe that, D. But you’re wrong," Claire insisted.

"Claire, no, seriously, I don't deserve that from you. That money's yours, sweetie."

“Who drove me to Jody’s in the middle of the night, Dean?”

“Um….”

“Yeah, that was you, D. Who taught me how to shoot and gave me my first gun and my first lore book?” Claire was clearly annoyed.

“Claire, seriously, I wouldn't feel right….” Dean was pleading.

“Yeah, that was you, too, D. Who gave me a copy of Caddyshack, and tried to convince me not to be a hunter? You."

"Dammit, Claire, would you listen...?"

"Who convinced me to give Jody a chance, and told me off for being rude to her? You. Who killed the vamp trying to get revenge on Alex by trying to turn me? You. Who cured me of being a werewolf? You and Sam.” Claire was sobbing at the other end of the line, now, and Dean’s heart was breaking.

“You don’t _deserve_ it? Dean, without _you_ , I’d be _on the streets, or dead_. I’d have died with my mother, or some other way, _long_ before now. Without you, I wouldn’t have Jodes, or Al, or Donna. I owe you my _family_. Hell, Dean, I owe you and Sam _my whole fucking **life**!_

“Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars is fucking **_peanuts_ **in comparison to what you’ve given me,” Claire practically screamed.

“Claire, honey, please,” Dean tried to interrupt.

Claire’s voice suddenly got very quiet. “ _You don’t deserve it?_ You’re saying that _giving me a **family** , my very **life** , isn’t **worth** anything?_ Fuck you, Dean. _Fuck you very much_. You’re _taking_ this money, and that’s the fucking _end_ of it.” On that quietly vicious note, Claire ended the call.

Dean slid down the Impala’s door, his knees hitting the pavement.

***

Sam’s cell phone rang, and he answered absently without checking Caller ID. “Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Claire. I’m not screwing around. You two are taking this money, and I don’t wanna hear another word about it. And kindly don’t say _anything_ about this to Jody, because after the two of you, I’m just transferring her money to her account as a surprise, and not fucking mentioning it. And if you screw _that_ up for me, I’ll never talk to either of you again. Are we clear?” Claire’s voice was vicious, but Sam could hear the underlying tears.

“Claire, honey, what happened? What idiot thing did Dean do now?” Sam guessed.

“He said he didn’t _deserve_ anything from me. Just totally _discounted_ everything the two of you have ever done for me and my wish to do something nice, _finally_ , in return. You think I’m not aware of how _awful_ I was to you two, to Cas, to Jodes, to Alex? You think that I don’t _know_ how I put you all through hell for years? _Jesus, Sam!_ I was fucking **_horrible_**.

“I was hurting, I was sad, but that doesn’t excuse _any_ of what I put you guys through. And now that I have an opportunity to make up for that, you guys think you can say **_no_**? Fuck that, Sam. _Fuck that, and fuck **you**_.” Claire was openly sobbing again.

“Oh, honey, _no_ , that’s not what either of us meant, baby. Neither of us meant to hurt you, or to discount your feelings, Claire. It’s just that that money’s for _you_ ,” Sam tried to soothe her, a little panicked at how wretched she sounded. He pulled the window shade up from the pane, and looked out, and was horrified to see Dean kneeling next to the car, head hanging, arms wrapped around his mid-section as if in pain. He rose from his chair and opened the door, walked out to Dean with the phone still to his ear, and started checking his brother for the wounds he couldn’t see. “Claire, something’s wrong with Dean. We love you, don’t be mad at us, of course we won’t ruin your surprise, but I’ve gotta go.” He ended the call.

“Dean? _Dean!_ ” Dean sagged against Sam’s leg. Sam hauled him up, still desperately looking for wounds he couldn’t find.

“I hurt Claire, Sammy.” Dean whispered it, and Sam almost missed it. Sam slung Dean’s arm over his shoulder, and half-dragged, half-carried him back into the room and over to the bed, kicking the door shut behind them. He dropped Dean onto the bed, and sat down next to him.

“Dean, what the _hell_ ….?”

From the doorway, Sam heard a soft “Hello, Sam.”

Cas stepped over and briefly touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Sam eased Dean down so he was lying on the bed.

“I need to go to Claire, now, Sam. He’ll be all right when he wakes up.”

“Cas, wait. How’d you know to come? Did Dean _pray_ …?”

“My grace is fully replenished, Sam. And no, neither Dean nor Claire actively sought my assistance, but both of them were so loud in their hurt from what the other was saying that they might as well have been screaming prayers at me. I actively listen for both of them, after all. You as well.”

Cas peered at Sam. “Do you need me to help _you_ , Sam? You have not been sleeping.”

Sam shook his head. “I haven’t, but I’m all right, Cas. Thanks.”

Cas nodded, and was gone.

Sam rubbed his eyes.

_I need a shower. And more caffeine._

***

“Hello, Claire.”

Claire practically threw herself into Cas’ arms, sobbing. Cas held on, and tried to soothe her as best he could, drawing from what he remembered of Sam and Dean soothing small children. It seemed to work, as Claire’s sobs eventually turned to hiccupping gasps for breath.

Cas pulled back a little, and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“All right now, Claire?” he asked.

She nodded, sniffling. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t be silly. I will _always_ come when you’re hurting,” he told her solemnly.

“You heard? What I said to Dean?”

“I did. And what you said to Sam, as well. I actively listen for all three of you. I don’t always pay a lot of attention to what I hear, but when any of you are in pain, of course I want to know that.”

Claire huffed out a small laugh. “Of course you do. Mr. Fix-it.”

“You want to talk about it, Claire?”

“Dean pissed me off, Cas. I get that wasn’t his intention, but I just couldn’t take it. I’m so _tired_ of him being so fucking humble and miserable and angsty. Cas, why does Dean hate himself so damn much? Why can’t he just accept that we love him?”

“Claire, you know that Dean has been through a lot. But you don’t know everything. And it’s really not my place to tell you. But _he_ probably won’t, because he would think that it would hurt you.” Cas bit his lip, considering what to say.

“Can’t you tell me a _little_? A general outline? Sam made it sound like Dean was _dying_ , just ‘cause I kinda yelled at him. I mean, I know I overreacted, but what he said hurt. But I didn’t mean to hurt him _back_ , just to get him to understand, and…and I think I really _fucked up_ , but I don’t understand _how_. And if _you_ don’t tell me, and _he_ won’t, then how do I avoid hurting him _again_?”

Cas sighed. “All right. I’ll tell you a little, Claire. Dean had a lonely and sad childhood. He was four when his mother, Mary, was killed by a demon, and from that point on, it was his responsibility to care for Sam, who was only six months old at the time. Their father, John, neglected the boys, and, at this point, it is unclear to me, but he may have abused Dean in other ways, as well; I’m not sure. When Sam was in his senior year at Stanford, his girlfriend was killed in the same manner as Mary. This happened shortly after John had disappeared while on a hunting trip, and Dean had asked Sam to help him in finding John. It took them quite a while, but they did eventually find John, and shortly thereafter they were all three in a serious motor vehicle accident. Sam had mostly superficial injuries, but John and Dean had to be hospitalized. Dean nearly died, but John made a deal with the demon that had killed Mary, and went to Hell in exchange for Dean’s life. Later, Sam was killed, and Dean made a similar deal with another demon; Dean was given one year to live, and Sam was brought back from the dead. One year later, Dean was dragged to Hell by a hellhound.”

“And where were _you_ when all this was going on, Cas? Why didn’t you _help_ them?” Claire wanted to know.

“I didn’t know of their existence at that time, Claire. I was leading a garrison of angels. But when Dean went to Hell, it became my mission to save him. And four months after he died, I was finally able to pull him free from the Pit and resurrect him. But I couldn’t communicate with him; he was unable to understand me in my true form.”

“And that’s when you chose my dad as your vessel. You needed a human form to communicate with Dean. But why did _saving Dean_ from Hell become your mission? I mean, I love Dean, but why…?”

“Why did Heaven want _him_ out of Hell?” Cas sighed. “It’s complicated. What it boils down to is this: Dean is the ‘true vessel’ of the Archangel Michael. Sam is the ‘true vessel’ of...another Archangel.”

“Which one?”

Cas weighed how much to tell her, but finally decided to just come out with it. “Lucifer.”

“ _Sam is **Satan**?_”

“No. He’s the ‘true vessel’ of the _Archangel Lucifer_. Did _you_ become _me_ when I briefly possessed you, Claire?”

“Oh. No.”

“Right. Because of the machinations of the demon that killed Mary, and a few other demons who backed Lucifer, and some angels who backed Michael, Lucifer was freed from his Cage in Hell. If the boys had both said ‘yes’ to their respective archangels, Michael and Lucifer would have fought, and it would have been the end of the world – the Apocalypse.”

“Wait. You said if the boys had _both_ said yes. So, one of them _did?_ ”

Cas bit his lip again. “Yes. But that’s not the point of this story, and I won’t tell you which one.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s all right. Anyway, Dean was dead for four months in Earth time. But in Hell, time runs differently, and he was in Hell for _forty years_. And for the first thirty years, he was tortured, primarily by a demon named Alastair. _Never_ mention Alastair to Dean, Claire, please,” Cas warned.

“I won’t,” she promised, her eyes wide. “But what happened after that?”

“Alastair offered Dean a deal. He could come down from the rack, but only if he became one of Hell’s torturers. Dean was offered that deal every day for thirty years, and he held out – but then he couldn’t any more. And for the last ten years before I saved him, Dean tortured other souls.”

“Didn’t Hell have _enough_ torturers? What did this Alastair need with _Dean?_ ”

“In order to free Lucifer from the Cage, many things needed to happen, and some had to happen in a particular order. The first thing that had to happen was that a righteous man had to shed blood in Hell.”

“And _Dean_ ….” Claire gasped.

“Dean was the Righteous Man. Yes.” Cas nodded. “So, you see, Claire, ever since, Dean has felt _terrible_ ; first, because he gave in to Alastair and _took the deal_ that was offered; second, because he _tortured_ souls; and third, because in so doing, he did the first thing that led to Lucifer being freed. It’s not something he talks about to anyone but me, and once, to Sam. I don’t know if he ever told Bobby, and I’m fairly sure he didn’t tell Jody, about all of it, though they know that he went to Hell and that I rescued him. And because of the guilt that he bears from his time in Hell, and perhaps some other things that have happened to him over the course of his life, Dean has...well, let’s just call it _‘very low self-esteem.’_

“So, when he told you that he doesn’t _deserve_ the money you want to give him, he _meant_ it. Not because _you_ don’t mean anything to him, but because he truly doesn’t see _himself_ as worthy of anything. He loves others so much; he gives and gives and gives – but he has a very hard time accepting _anything_ from _anyone_ , because he just can’t accept that he is _entitled_ to love, or anything _else_ for which he hasn’t personally fought. In addition to which, Claire, Dean _loves_ you; he truly wants you to enjoy your windfall.”

Claire swallowed hard. “I really hurt him, didn’t I?”

Cas nodded. “I had to knock him out temporarily. He’ll be all right when he wakes up.”

“Should I apologize? Or would that make it _worse_?”

Cas considered that. “I think that you should apologize for _yelling_ at him, and for saying ‘fuck you’ to him. Tell him you overreacted, and you’re sorry for that. Don’t say anything more than that, and just send a check, rather than trying to wire the money. But if the check comes back, or, more likely, just never gets cashed, then, Claire, I think you should respect that decision.”

Claire screwed up her face, thinking. “I think I should say _this_ – that I didn’t mean to hurt Dean as much as I did; that he hurt me, but that doesn’t excuse me acting like a spoiled child; that I love him, and still want to give him the money, and I hope he’ll accept it; and that if he chooses _not_ to accept it, I will accept his decision, but I won’t _like or agree_ with it, and I certainly won’t use his share, I’ll just set it aside – is that appropriate, Cas?”

“I think that’s a very mature way to say it, Claire. Yes. Maybe wait a couple of days before you talk to Dean. You could perhaps call Sam tomorrow, though.”

“Okay. Thanks, Cas. For coming when I needed you, for calming me down, and for explaining why that went so badly off the rails.”

“You’re very welcome.” Cas hugged her again, and he smiled when she snuggled up against him in return.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.


	27. Comparing Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes to and talks to Jody. Sam and Dean check out the crash site.

Dean came to shortly after Cas vanished. He looked over at Sam, who was back to researching online. Sam looked even worse than he had earlier. Dean sat up slowly.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Sam acknowledged. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Was I imagining things, or….”

“Yeah, Cas was here, Dean.”

Dean sighed.

_Great. He couldn’t even be bothered to say hello? To stick around and make sure I was okay? He really does hate me._

“He would’ve stayed, but he said Claire needed him,” Sam said.

_Oh._

“I fucked up, Sam. I hurt Claire.”

“Claire called me right after she laid into you. Um, when you talk to Jody, be sure _not_ to mention that Claire is handing out money. Claire wants to surprise Jody, and said if we screw it up for her, she’ll never speak to us again.”

Dean winced. “You still want me to handle the call to Jody? I did try to reach her before I talked to Claire, but I got her voice mail. I don’t supposed I need to talk to her again, I left a message, told her what we’re looking for.”

“Yeah. You might want to just follow up, in case she’s not checking voice mail that closely. You were only out for about twenty minutes, D. I’m trying to finish up what I’m doing here, then I’m gonna hop in the shower quick, then we can head out to the crash site, yeah?”

“Oh. Okay.”

Sam nodded, as he made a note on a small notepad. “And…that’s that. _Done_. Finally.” He got up and went into the bathroom.

Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Jody again.

“Hey, Dean, what’s up, kiddo?”

“Didn’t get my message, huh?”

“Ah, no, haven’t checked my voice mail in about an hour. What’s up?”

“We’re still working this case in Wisconsin, the one where you got us the incident report, but the first names were smudged? We’re thinking now that it might be a cursed object case, so we’re wondering what happened to the family’s car after it got impounded. Do you think you can find out?”

“I can poke. Did you get the first names, or was the original smudged, too?”

“We got ‘em, yeah. Michael, Anya, and Alma Daniels. We dug up the child’s grave and burned her bones, but it didn’t stop the hauntings.”

“Wait, did you say _**Alma** Daniels?_”

“Yeah. Poor kid was only four years old.”

“What year was that crash, Dean?”

“1989. Why?”

“Oh, this is _weird_ , Dean. Alex has been working double shifts at the hospital – they’re short-handed to begin with, need about ten more new nurses at least, and now, on top of that, there’s some kind of weird epidemic they can’t figure out, the pediatric ward is packed. And the first child admitted was an _**Amy** Daniels_, mother **_Anya_** , who is four years old, but I spoke with her, and she seems to think it should be 1989….” Dean cut her off.

“Wait, you said _**Amy** Daniels_, Jody?”

“Yeah.”

“Jody, _your_ ‘epidemic’ is connected to _our_ case. Is there a woman, around thirty-three or thirty-four years old, who’s been around these kids, and either _has_ the last name of Hydecker, or _had_ that as her maiden name?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I can find out.”

“Do that, Jody – but if you find the woman, _don’t_ let on to her that you know that anything out of the ordinary is going on.”

“Okay. Is there any connection to your case to an elderly woman named Emily Stinson?”

“Not that I know of; why? Who’s she?”

“She’s the woman the hospital has down as Amy Daniels’ parent. I spoke with her, she told me flat out she’s not Amy’s mother, that Amy’s parents are deceased, but she was a friend of Amy’s mother, and when the parents died, she took Amy in.”

“Then she’s been caring for Amy since _1989?_ ”

“She said that the date thing is a game that she and Amy play – that each month, they choose a different year from the past to pretend, and they do online research about things that were popular then, and this month, their year is 1989. Amy told me she had a twin named Alma, but Ms. Stinson said Alma was Amy’s name for her imaginary friend, that there was no twin.”

“Oh, there _was_ a twin. I’ll tell you later how we know about the connection, Jodes, but for now, find out about the car and the Hydecker woman, and I’ll look into Ms. Stinson at this end.”

“Dean, what are we potentially looking at here?”

“If I’m right, Jody, the as-yet missing Miss Hydecker is a shtriga, and she’s attacking the sick kids; Ms. Stinson is involved somehow, but I don’t know how, yet.”

“Okay, Dean. I’ll see what I can find out about the Daniels’ car after it was impounded, and if there’s a woman named Hydecker with a connection to the kids in the hospital. I’m making notes as we talk here, so I’m jotting down my list of things to do. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now. As soon as Sam is done in the shower, we’re heading out to look at the crash site – that’s where the hauntings usually occur, though we got it at the cemetery last night. Oh, Sam just turned the water off, so I’ll let you go, Jody.”

“Bye.”

Dean ended the call and brought up the browser on his phone. He did a quick search for “Emily Stinson Siren Wisconsin,” which brought up nothing. He tried “Emily Stinson Sioux Falls South Dakota,” and again, nothing. He sighed.

_Sam is so much better at online research. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him._

Sam came out of the bathroom. “You ready to go, Dean?”

“Yeah. Interesting chat with Jody just now, tell you when we get to the crash site.”

Dean stuffed his phone into his jeans pocket and got up. He grabbed his keys on the way out the door, Sam behind him.

Dean drove south along State Road 35 through town. At the edge of town, they passed Siren Ball Park, then Cemetery Road.

“Next road off to our right will be Clear Lake St., just stay on 35; the crash site isn’t too much further after that,” Sam told Dean. Dean slowed to 25 mph, and saw a small picnic area off to the right, with some parking spaces, tables, and a dock that extended out into Clear Lake. There was a tree that looked like it had been damaged in an accident; Dean pointed to it, and Sam nodded. “That’s where Hargrove crashed.”

Dean pulled off the road into the parking area, just as the car radio turned on by itself to a talk radio station. Dean parked, turned off the engine, and removed the key from the ignition – but the radio stayed on, and changed stations to a Top 40 format. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, as the radio changed stations again to a jazz station. Then the radio went to static, and they heard the child’s voice say _“Mommy! I can’t get out!”_

“ _Alma_? Is that you?” Dean asked, testing a theory.

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck went up, as the child’s voice tremulously asked, _“Daddy? Where’s Amy?”_

Then the radio went dead.

“Well. Wwwow. Okay.” Sam stuttered a little. “I-I guess we know Dr. Hydecker was telling us the truth about the twin sister, at least.”

“Oh, yeah, and let me tell you what I got from _Jody_....” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're soooo close...!
> 
> So - looks like the boys are headed back to Sioux Falls. 
> 
> Hmmm. What *else* is in Sioux Falls? ;)
> 
> Comment comment comment!!!!!!!!!! Please? Pretty please? :D


	28. Well, Finally!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire, Jody, and Alex have dinner. Claire gives Jody and Alex their gifts.

Jody pushed through the front door and was shushed by Claire.

“Al’s still sleeping the sleep of the dead. I’m seriously a little worried about her, Jodes. She can’t keep working eighty hours a week like this.”

Claire steered Jody into the kitchen. “I got Chinese, so dinner’s all set. I figured Alex can reheat it when she wakes up, and it’ll still taste just as good. Dig in.”

“Wow, Claire, this looks great. What, did you buy out the restaurant?" Jody asked, seeing the number of take-out containers on the table. "How was your trip to the mall? Did you successfully divide and conquer?”

“I did. Got a ton of stuff I needed. I don’t think I had a single pair of jeans left that wasn’t practically falling apart, after that last ghoul hunt.” Claire opened the fried rice and started poking at it with her chop sticks, lazily.

Alex came in the kitchen; she was still in her t-shirt and the shorts that she’d slept in, and wrapped in a blanket. She headed straight for the coffeemaker. Finding none ready, she groaned, until Claire took pity on her, and handed her the latte she’d bought for her just before coming home. “Here, Al. Drink this one – I don’t think it’s completely cold yet – while I make a fresh pot. And eat. There’s Chinese on the table.”

“Ohhh, that sounds so good,” Alex moaned.

Claire started a pot of coffee brewing, and got out three mugs and the flavored creamer. She wandered back over to the table and poked her chop sticks into the Chinese barbecue ribs' container.

Jody smiled at Alex’s expression of sleepy bliss as she bit into a pot-sticker.

“Hey, girls, do either of you know anyone with the last name of Hydecker? Or maybe it was someone’s maiden name?” Jody asked, as she opened up the General Tso's chicken and the jumbo shrimp.

“Um, yeah,” Alex offered. “I do. Julie Hydecker, she’s a nurse, she’s been working the double shifts that start at midnight, she’s my relief for my lunch and whatnot. She started working at the hospital about a week and a half ago, I think. Why?” She nodded her thanks to Claire, as she scarfed down some orange chicken.

“Any idea how old she is?” Jody asked.

“Dunno, maybe…early thirties? Maybe a little younger. Is there a problem, Jody?” Alex asked, looking up for a moment from the beef and broccoli container she’d started to investigate.

“Not sure, so don’t say anything, okay?”

“Are you saying that in an official capacity, Sheriff?” Claire teased.

“Actually, yeah, I might be. Look, I don’t know enough about the potential situation to say more, yet. I was asked to find out about any women who are, or were, named Hydecker. We don’t want them alerted at this time, so, just don’t say anything.”

“Yeah, sure, Jodes. Julie’s a sweetheart, though, so if she’s somehow a suspect, I gotta say, I can’t see it.” Alex looked in three more containers. “Claire, do you have the fried rice?”

“Yeah, here.” Claire handed it over, and Alex took a bite of it, then set that container down and picked up another.

“God, this is all so _good_. I'm ravenous, haven't eaten all day. Thank you for getting dinner, Jody,” Alex mumbled through a bite of teriyaki chicken.

“I didn’t.”

Claire poked Alex. “This one’s on _me_ , sleepyhead.”

“Where’d _you_ get cash, Barbie?” Alex asked.

“Oh, that’s right, you’ve been so completely out of it, you haven’t heard the news yet, have you?” Claire grinned. “Actually, hang on a sec, I will be right back.”

Claire ran up the stairs to her bedroom, and came back a minute later with two small gift-wrapped boxes and two long envelopes. She handed one of each to Jody, and one of each to Alex, then sat down and grinned as she munched on an egg roll.

“What’s this, Claire?” Jody asked.

“Presents. Early Christmas? Late birthdays? Whatever. You guys deserve it.” Claire took another bite, waiting.

Alex put her fork down, and tore the wrapping off her box. She recognized the name of the high-end jewelry store at the mall that was stamped on the box. She glanced at Claire before opening it, and when she had, she gasped. “Oh, my God.”

Meanwhile, Jody was opening her own box, and exclaimed, “Oh, Claire!” Jody looked up at Claire with a shocked expression.

Claire grinned. “They’re lockets, look inside. I’ve got one, see?” She showed them that she was wearing hers, then continued, “and I got one for Donna, too. Open the envelopes, too, guys.”

Jody opened her locket, and found a picture of Claire, Alex, Donna, and herself; she recognized it as one Sam had taken the previous summer. She put her hand up to her mouth, something Claire knew she did when she was emotionally touched by something. Claire came over and gave her a hug, then poked her.

“Open the _envelope_ , Jodes, c’mon.”

Alex was busy putting her locket on. “Claire, help with the clasp?” Claire came over and got it fastened, and Alex pulled her down into a quick hug. “Brat. What’s this about?”

“Open. The. _Envelope_.” Claire grinned, bounced back to her chair, and pulled out a second egg roll to munch.

Jody tore into the envelope, and found a long, thin greeting card, nothing special, just a fairly generic, non-specific “thinking of you” type of card. She was puzzled by Claire’s insistence on opening the envelope…until she opened the card – and found a cashier’s check. She sat down – or, rather, fell back into the chair – stunned. She sat there, staring at the check, without a word, her mouth hanging open.

Alex glanced over at her, then at Claire. “I think you broke Jody.” She tore into her own envelope, and had the same slightly puzzled expression at the card’s exterior.

Then she opened the card, saw the check, and laughed. “Oh, that’s funny.” She tossed the card and check onto the table, and went back to eating the fried rice.

“What’s funny about it?” Claire demanded.

“The locket’s pretty, thanks; _but a fake cashier’s check_ , Claire? Very mature.”

Jody swallowed hard. “I don’t think it’s fake, Alex.” She still couldn’t take her eyes off her own check. “Really, Claire? _A million dollars?_ Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Really. ‘Course I’m sure. Not like you haven’t earned it, Jodes.” Claire suddenly looked bashful, and young, and Jody remembered all the trouble she’d caused when Sam and Dean had first brought her to stay.

“Oh, honey. No. You _can’t_ think that I think that!” Jody said, in horror that Claire might think she owed her anything.

“No! I don’t mean it _that_ way, Jody! I just…. I was so _awful_ for so _long_ , that now that I _can_ , I wanted to do something to make up for it; plus, I wanted to share the love. You guys, and Donna, Sam and Dean, and Cas – you’re my **_family_**. And family shares.”

“Wait. This thing is _**real**? What the f_…. Claire? **_HOW_ **are you giving me _seven hundred fifty thousand dollars_?” Alex yelled, her eyes wide as she gripped the check tightly in disbelief.

“A long time ago, I filed a claim on my dad’s life insurance policy. It took almost eight years, but they finally paid out. I got a check for just over eight million dollars.” Claire grinned at Alex, as Alex looked wildly from her, to the check, to Jody, and back to her.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Alex squealed.

Jody finally remembered to breathe. “Thank you, Claire. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it. I’m just going to sit here, and try not to pass out, now.”

Claire nodded to herself in satisfaction, and snagged a third egg roll.

_Well, finally! **That’s** how that was **supposed** to go._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to how Donna's going to react when she gets a check? ;)
> 
> Please comment.
> 
> There, that's a nice, dignified request. Doesn't go overboard; might even work. ;)


	29. Bits and Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody pokes. Sam runs. Cas notices. Dean journals. Cas notices that, too.

Jody pulled her truck into her assigned space outside the Sheriff’s Office and parked it. She swung out, carrying the box of doughnuts she’d picked up on her way in, and locked it up, then headed inside to start her day.

She wanted to call Sam and Dean and let them know about Julie Hydecker, but she wanted to see what, if anything, she could find out about the Daniels’ car, first. So, she started poking around in online records available to police departments that civilians couldn’t normally access. She knew that if push came to shove, Sam could probably hack in, illegally; he had the talent. She appreciated that they had asked her to do it legally, instead.

She read the impound notice, and the auction notice, issued when no one claimed the vehicle after six months. Then she looked for the auction records, and, finding them, whistled.

_That’s interesting. Hmm._

But that meant she had a few _more_ things she needed to look into, before she could call the boys. So, she got on her phone, and started making the necessary calls.

***

After his token three hours of sleep, Sam woke, feeling his cell phone vibrating beneath his pillow when the silent alarm he’d set went off. He didn’t want to disturb Dean, but he’d long ago realized that getting more than three hours’ sleep meant risking a REM cycle – and _the dream_. And he just couldn’t face _the dream_ right now. There was enough going on.

He turned the alarm off. He got up, and dressed for running as quietly as possible. He took his phone, his wallet, and his room key, and slipped out the door, locking it behind him.

He’d gone twenty miles yesterday. It hadn’t been enough. Today, he thought he might do thirty.

_Breathe. Just breathe. Match the inhalation to the fall of the left foot, the exhalation to the fall of the right. In. Out. In. Out. **Lucifer’s dead. He can’t hurt you.** Breathe. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. **You’re safe. The Cage is behind you.** Breathe. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out._

***

In the cabin, Cas’ eyes opened, and he tried to pinpoint what had awakened him. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. What…?

**_Breathe. Just breathe. Match the inhalation to the fall of the left foot, the exhalation to the fall of the right. In. Out. In. Out. Lucifer’s dead. He can’t hurt you._ **

**_Breathe. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. You’re safe. The Cage is behind you. Breathe. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out._ **

_Oh. Sam. He’s running again._

“Cas? Can’t sleep?” the voice, warm with concern, had him turning back toward the bed.

“It’s all right, Kathy. Go back to sleep. I just need to go to the bathroom.” He rose and crossed to the bathroom door, then turned to look back at the woman in his bed, as she snuggled back under the covers.

He sighed softly. She hadn’t caught the lie, but he still didn’t like telling it.

***

Dean heard the lock click as Sam left the room. He’d pretended to be asleep, but really, he’d taken too many naps the day before to be able to fall asleep again at night, and had lain awake, instead. He was concerned that Sam wasn’t getting more than three hours, but his brother’s insomnia was an old familiar worry.

Once he was certain Sam hadn’t forgotten something, and wouldn’t be breathlessly returning to retrieve it, Dean got up, and got his notebook and pen from the duffel bag. He sat down at the desk, and stared briefly at the blank page, then started to write.

***

**_Saturday morning – early_ **

_Sam’s running again. He says he might be training for another marathon, but I think he’s really just running **away**. From the dreams he doesn’t share, from his worrying about me, from all the daily stresses that come with this damn job, from…his life._

_I worry about him. It’s been my job my whole life, taking care of him. He’s an adult, and I can’t keep stepping in when he doesn’t want me to, but I still worry. He’s my brother. That doesn’t go away just because he’s grown._

_I hurt Claire yesterday. Fuck, I **hate** that I hurt her. She wants to give back, to share in her good fortune. I understand the motivation from her perspective. I’m glad she **can’t** understand mine, I don’t **want** her to know, **not ever** , all of what I went through, and why I’ll **never** deserve what she offers. I know that to keep from hurting her again, I’ll have to accept her gift, and probably have to explain at least a portion of my story, so she knows that I didn’t intend to discount her feelings. I won’t use the money. I’ll leave it alone, in case **she** needs it someday. But I won’t tell **her** that. I can’t hurt Claire again._

_I don’t want to hurt **anyone** again. But I can’t pretend to be someone or something I’m not. Not anymore. **I’m broken.** And no one can fix me – or Cas would have, by now. Heaven knows, he’s tried often enough._

_No, I can’t **be** fixed. And I can’t pretend not to be broken. So, I’m going to have to do the one thing that has always been harder for me to do than anything else: **share my feelings**. Probably not my whole story, with those who don’t already know it. But I’m going to have to explain to those who mean the most to me why I fuck up all the time, emotionally. Why I get angry. Why I push them away. Why I lash out._

_And that is going to **hurt**. And I don’t want to hurt. But maybe I **have** to hurt, to heal. To be whole again. If that’s even possible, I think it has to come from **me**._

_It might be easier to do it in writing. A letter, instead of a conversation. It certainly can’t be a phone call, not what I have in mind. But letters…letters might work. Even if I didn’t send them, though I probably should, it would let me figure out how to say what needs to be said. I could take my time, choose my words, order my thoughts._

_But I don’t want to send the letters if they’d do more harm than good to those I care about. They deserve an explanation, but they don’t deserve to have more pain inflicted on them. I can’t be that selfish._

_I think I’ll start with journaling as if I’m writing the letters, and show it to Mia, first. If **she** thinks it’s okay, **maybe** I’ll send them. _

_Maybe. If I don’t chicken out. I'm such a fucking coward.  
_

_\---_

_Dear Sam,_

_**I am so proud of you**. That is the first and foremost thing that I have to say to you. And being proud of you, means being proud of myself, because I had to have done **something** right, raising you. If I have done **one thing** in this life that I can be proud of, it’s **that**. You are a good man, Sam. **Never ever doubt it**._

_You are the only person I’ve ever truly let in. Because with you, I don’t have to say the words. You just **know**. You know when I’m lying, and you know when to call me on my bullshit, and when to let it lie. You know all my tells._

_But I can’t tell the lie anymore, Sam. **I’m not fine**. I don’t **remember** being fine. Every time I’ve ever said that I was fine, or okay, or feeling like anything less than complete shit, yeah, **that was a lie**. I know you know that, but this is a confession, so I have to **say** it. **I’m not fine**._

_**I’m broken**. Not just cracked, or a little worn around the edges. **Fractured**. Split into a million pieces, and hanging on by the slenderest of threads._

_I’m a coward. I can’t face **myself** , much less you, or Cas, or … well, anyone. I don’t know if you’ve noticed that I rarely look you in the eye anymore. It’s because I’m so afraid of what I’ll see – or what I might not see – there. Would I see the fearful, angry condemnation I feel I deserve? Or the innocent, trusting, pure and shiny love of my brother, that I know that I don’t?_

_Remember during the Trials, in that church, when you told me that you couldn’t stand to watch while I went off and worked with another angel, or another vampire, because you couldn’t be trusted? I told you that I had never, and would never, put anyone else ahead of you, **and that was true**. If – when – I pushed you away, it wasn’t because of **your** failings, but because of my own, Sam. I was afraid, and afraid that you would see just how afraid. Even as I bandaged your hand, and tried to soothe your pain, even as my heart was breaking for you, I was terrified. **Terrified** that you would insist on finishing the Trials, that you would die, that you would leave me, and I would be **alone**. Terrified that, without you, I wouldn’t be **enough**._

_I told you then that I couldn’t do it without you. That was true, too. But that wasn’t all of it. I was also so afraid that you **wanted** to die. When I said that if you finished, you would die, and you looked at me blankly, and then said, “So?” – like you couldn’t think of a single reason why that might be a bad thing – **fuck** , that was the most frightened I’ve ever been, Sam. If I drove you to think that way, to think that you had to be the sacrifice, with my condescension and anger and petty jealousy and outright bigotry against your psychic abilities – if that’s on me, and I have to think it is – then I’m sorrier than I can say. “Sorry” doesn’t begin to cut it._

_Sam, I love you and I’m proud of you, and I’m proud that I helped to shape you into the good man that you are, but you’re a little bit broken, too. And part of your being broken is also due to me. Because I didn’t say the right words often enough, and said the wrong words far too much._

_This is the chick flick moment from hell, but I’ve shoved my emotions down, far too deep, for far too long, and they’re just refusing to stay buried anymore._

_I don’t deserve your love, Sam. But I know that I have it, and I’m **damn** glad that I do._

_I don’t say in words often enough how much I love you, little brother. But I know you know that I do, because again, between us, it’s never been about the words, and I **have** tried to show it._

_But this letter is all about the words, so, here they are again: **I love you.**_

_Always._

_Dean_

_\---_

_Dear Cas,_

_Fuck, this is hard. I wrote your name, and then stared at the rest of the blank page for a full five minutes, frozen. Shit, I’m no better at saying this in writing than I am out loud. But it has to be said. Dammit._

**_Cas, I love you._ **

_There. I don’t even know why that’s so hard to say to you, except that it’s the hardest thing I’ll **ever** say to you. Maybe because you’re **everything**._

_When you told me you were done, I was expecting it. I’ve been waiting for you to be done with me for years, always, because I don’t deserve you, and never did. I’ve pushed you away at every opportunity. Sam and Claire both told me that you didn’t leave because I pushed you away, but rather because your own guilty conscience was eating you alive, and Sam said that even if I told you that I don’t think you’re to blame for, say, Mom’s death – **and by the way, you’re not** – you’d nod and be grateful to me for telling you that, but you’d go on feeling just as damned guilty about it, because you blame yourself._

_But Sam also said that you **do** care what I think. In fact, Sam actually said that, “out of everyone on the planet, Cas cares **most** about what **you** think of him.” And that just blew me away. I know you’ve said that you and I have “a more profound bond” – but to say that out of everyone, **I** matter most to you? Why? **Why me?**_

_Over and over and over again, I’ve hurt you. **You.** My best friend in the world. Lately, it’s all I do. I’m a coward, so, I hurt my best friend on purpose, because if I push you away, at least when you leave, it’s not because you **want** to go, it’s because I **made** you go. If I thought you’d left without me doing something to cause it, simply because you **wanted** to go? I couldn’t take it. It’d kill me._

_But Sam and Claire say that you didn’t leave because I pushed you away. Which means you **did** want to go._

_And I don’t blame you, Cas. Not one bit. I’ve been horrible to you, and I’m so sorry. Saying that now doesn’t matter a damn, I know, but it has to be said. In fact, I’ll say it again: **I am so damned sorry, Cas.**_

_Just so you know, it’s no easier to say “I’m sorry” to you than it is to tell you “I love you.” Both are fucking true._

_I can’t say that you’re not at fault for everything I’ve ever put on you, because that wouldn’t be true. You **have** made mistakes. You’re not infallible, and I shouldn’t expect you to be. **It’s okay to make mistakes**. It’s human. And while you’re an angel, you’re a better human being than 99.999% of the human beings on the planet, Cas._

_But the things about which I’ve been the **most** vicious to you, especially recently? **None of those have been your fault.** Mom’s death? That was **Jack** ; he just made a mistake. He acted on instinct, and he couldn’t help it, and **you weren’t even there.** Jack’s death? That was_ _**Chuck** , being his evil, vindictive, shitty self. Belphegor’s death? I wasn’t there, but **you were** , and I should have trusted your judgment that taking him down was the only way. Rowena’s death? Again, **you weren’t even there**. **Sam** did that, and _ _**she chose to die**._

_**Absolutely none of that was on you**. I should never have tried to **put** it on you.  
_

_And I should **never** have let you walk out of the bunker. Ever. **That’s your home as much as it is mine and Sam’s**. You **belong** there. And watching you walk up the stairs and out the door without so much as a word to try to stop you? That was absolutely the **worst** thing I’ve done in a while. Ranks right up there with stabbing the book next to your head, and to leaving you behind in Purgatory._

_I accept that my actions have consequences. I **hate** how much I’ve hurt you, Cas, but I know that I have, and that I have to try to make amends. And I know that I may not be able to. I don’t have the right to ask you to forgive me. I certainly don’t have any expectation that you’ll do so, or return to considering me your friend. I’ve ruined that, and **that’s on me**._

_But I **do** wish that you’d come home, Cas. Not for my sake, but for your own, and for Sam. If it were just me, I’d say you were better off on your own. But it isn’t, and you’re not. Sam doesn’t deserve to lose you, and you don’t deserve to lose his friendship, just because **I’m** fucked up. If you want, I’ll stay out of your way. If you choose not to return, I’ll understand. But whether you return or not, the bunker is your home, your room is your room, your things are your things, and they’ll stay where they are._

_Sam said that Claire told him that you told her that your grace is regenerating. I’m glad, Cas. I’m happy for you. I realize that you read that and probably thought that I said it from some sick expectation that it means that you’ll be able to help us again, but that isn’t it. **I don’t expect that** , and I hate that I ever made you feel that if you couldn’t be of use, that if you lost your grace and became human, then you were worthless. **You’re not worthless, Cas. You never could be.**_

_I know you don’t believe in me anymore. That’s fine, I deserve that._

_**But I believe in you**. _

_Always and forever._

_Dean_

***

Dean’s stomach growled. He needed food and coffee – not necessarily in that order of importance – and he had no idea how long Sam would be out running, so he capped the pen and put it and the notebook away, made sure he had his room key, his other keys, his wallet, and his phone, and headed out to get breakfast. He’d write more letters later, but he felt he’d made a good start on the two that were the most important – again, not necessarily in the order of their importance. And maybe making a good start was enough for today.

_Maybe **I'm** enough for today._

Dean didn’t know it, but the light in his soul got a little stronger. a little brighter, and a little bit warmer.

And in Wyoming, a certain angel took notice of the spark as it flared a little.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting worried about Sam? You should be. ;)
> 
> Surprised about Cas and Kathy? Don't worry. I promise.
> 
> Please comment!


	30. Unexpected Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody concocts a plan to handle her discovery and shares it with Dean. Cas heals Kathy's residual migraine pain and she realizes it's all true.

Jody hung up the phone in her office after her tenth call spent investigating, then working out how to handle, the unanticipated situation she’d discovered that morning. For a moment, she stared absently off into space.

_Seems it’s the month for unexpected inheritances. Gotta love it when a plan comes together, though._

She reached into her desk drawer for her cell phone, and dialed Dean.

“Hey, Jodes, whatcha got for us?”

“Dean? You sound almost…cheerful. _What’s wrong_?” Jody cracked.

“ _Hardeeharhar_. So, you find anything? You gonna tell me, or do I have to pull it out of you with pliers?” Dean grinned.

“Alex knows a Julie Hydecker, early thirties, works with her at the hospital on the pediatric ward.”

“For how long, did she say?”

“About a week and a half now.”

“Yeah, that fits, Jody. Anything on the car?”

“Actually, yes. And you’re not going to believe it.”

“What, now?”

“As you know, the car was impounded. After six months with it remaining unclaimed, it was sold at auction.”

“Okay, why wouldn’t I believe _that?_ ”

“Because of who bought it. Dean, the auction records indicate that the Daniels’ car was purchased by Singer Auto Salvage. _Bobby bought the car_.”

“Oh, you gotta be _kidding_ me. Well, who owns it _now_?”

“That’s the _other_ part you’re gonna have a hard time believing, Dean.” Jody sounded downright mischievious, and Dean was a little scared by it. “You and Sam own it now.”

“Jody…What? What the hell…? We never bought a car from _Bobby_ , Jodes.”

“No, you didn’t. You inherited Singer Auto Salvage, and everything else Bobby owned, when he died. _You and Sam were Bobby’s heirs, Dean_.”

Dean was stunned. “But…. He never said…. No one ever said…. That can’t be right, Jody.”

“I’ve been looking into it all morning, Dean.”

“But…. There’s gotta be a _catch_ , right?”

“Well, there’s paperwork that has to be signed,” Jody admitted.

“Yeah, and that’s a problem, Jody. You know that only the fact that we’re believed to be dead keeps our pictures off of post office walls. We’re still wanted men. I appreciate the fact that _you_ overlook that minor detail when we’re around, but if we come back to life to sign paperwork for an inheritance, I doubt that the _Feds_ will be as gracious.”

“Well, I thought about that, Dean. And it’s not so much that you’ll come back to life, as that your own heirs will step forward.”

“Huh?”

“A recently discovered Will, conveniently left in Bobby’s desk, signed by one Dean Winchester, lists some guy I never heard of, named _Sam Wesson_ , as his heir. Another Will in the same drawer, signed by one Sam Winchester, indicates some random dude named _Dean Smith_ is his. You two _do_ still have those identities safely in place, right?”

“I assume these ‘recently discovered Wills’ are back-dated?” Dean asked.

“Well, they _will be_ , once you guys sign them.” Jody twiddled and tapped her pen on her desk blotter.

“Jody, it’s a good thing you’re on the side of good, because otherwise you’d be an evil genius. I’m in awe.” Dean shook his head in appreciation.

“It’s a gift. Look, you guys have to swing back this way anyway, right? So, get a move on – unless there’s something else you need to do in the burgeoning metropolis of Siren, Wisconsin?”

“I still need to find a connection between Siren and Emily Stinson, but we should be able to get on the road by tomorrow at the latest, be there by dinnertime? If we get held up, I’ll call.”

“That works, D. Drive safe.”

“Hey, Jodes?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Dean said, quietly.

“Bobby’d want this, Dean. You two were his boys.” Jody ended the call.

Dean chuckled. He closed his eyes and took a moment to savor the memory of the cranky old softy who’d been their surrogate father.

***

Kathy rubbed the back of her neck gingerly. Migraines always left her with a little residual ache right at C-5.

“Are you fully recovered, Kathy?” Cas inquired.

“Yep. Thanks for letting me crash here last night. I don’t usually have such severe headaches come on so quickly as that one did; that one took me by surprise. It was just lucky that I had my meds with me.”

“Of course. You couldn’t have driven safely in blinding pain such as you were experiencing at dinner. And I would have worried if you’d left, even after the medication took effect. Just now, though, you were rubbing your neck as if it were still causing you some pain. May I?”

When she nodded, Cas stepped closer and touched her neck briefly. She gave a soft gasp as the pain left her, because, in that brief moment, she’d seen his eyes… _glow_.

“It’s all true, isn’t it?”

Cas smiled softly at her. “Of course it’s true. How could I have invented such a tale?”

“You could be just really imaginative, Cas. Others have been. Great storytellers often embellish; it’s called ‘fiction’ for a reason. But you aren’t making it up. You really _are_ an angel.”

“Yes.”

“Cas, if even half of what you told me is true – you should go back to them.”

Cas nodded. “I already told Sam that this wasn’t forever, that I would be back. I’ve already seen Sam twice, Dean the once, for a second. It doesn’t hurt quite as much now. Talking to you helped, so, thank you for listening.”

“It was the least I could do, Cas. And it _is_ a good story,” Kathy grinned. “I’ve said that from the start!

“But when I say you should go back, I _don’t_ mean going back to letting Dean blame you for things. You’ve stood up for yourself now, and taken this time for yourself; you should keep doing things like that. Don’t let him bully you. Stand your ground, Cas.”

“Yes. I know. It was hard to break out of our cycle of push-me-pull-you passive-aggressive verbal abuse, and no, I don’t want to go back to that. But Sam told me he made Dean see a therapist, and I’ve heard Dean a few times, not praying, but thinking of me. I haven’t listened in when it didn’t seem like he needed my assistance – I only interceded after his call with Claire because they were both in such pain they might as well have been screaming at me – but I know that he’s been keeping a journal. I think the two of us need to talk.”

Kathy smiled. “You do. But don’t leave just yet; you haven’t even tried fly fishing yet!”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you not to worry, didn't I? Y'all were so quick to be mad at Cas.... Shame on you! ;)


	31. Living the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam falls asleep, and it's too little, too late. Cas rescues him. Dean apologizes.

Sam stumbled to a stop at the edge of the motel’s parking lot, and took his pulse at his neck. He wasn’t surprised that his heart rate was not only elevated from exertion, but slightly stuttering from exhaustion; he’d ended up running thirty-five miles.

_Can’t sleep. Can’t risk **the dream**. Too much to do. Need shower. Need caffeine._

He went across the parking lot, dug his room key out, and let himself in. Dean wasn’t around. He wasn’t surprised.

He got some clothes out of his duffel bag, and took them into the bathroom. He turned on the water, stripped down, and glanced in the mirror.

And then he took a hard startled look at himself.

_Shit. No wonder Dean was worried yesterday. I really **do** look like crap._

He stepped into the shower, washed his hair quickly, then turned to other areas needing attention. But he’d barely begun when he heard a dull clanking noise, then a gurgle; and he was suddenly scrambling to turn the water off – _now, dammit, that shit’s **cold!** Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, shitshitshit_ – and get out of there. He jumped into sweatpants and a worn Stanford sweatshirt, and started towel-drying his hair, even as he ran in and dove under the covers, shivering.

And then once he was lying down, of course, it was all over. His eyes closed, and he was under.

And somehow he skipped right over deep sleep, and straight into the kind of waking dream that signifies that one is so truly exhausted that a REM cycle is possible at any time.

And of course, he was too tired to try to guide the dream into something pleasant.

***

_“Hello, Sammy. Welcome back. Did you miss me?”_

_He shivered._

**_No. Lucifer’s dead, this isn’t real, it can’t be real, it’s just a dream. I watched him die._ **

_“Of course I’m dead, Sammy. But why would that matter? Dying just sent me back to the Cage. To wait for you, baby. And here you are.”_

***

Under the covers, Sam’s body twitched and squirmed.

***

**_No. No, no, no. Not real. No._ **

_“C’mon, Sammy, you know it’s real, or why would you go to such pains to try to avoid it? Yeah, Sammy, I can hear your thoughts. I’m in your head. I always have been. Ever since Detroit. Ever since you said ‘yes.’ **I never left.** I’ve been here the whole time, buddy.”_

**_No. Not true. Dean showed me Lucifer wasn’t real. And Cas. Cas wouldn’t lie. Cas said he was gone. Cas took the damage. I can remember, but I’m whole. This is a dream. Just a dream, and it can’t hurt me._ **

_Lucifer’s face swam up in front of Sam in the dream, and Lucifer reached out to pinch Sam’s arm, hard._

_“No? I can’t hurt you? Oh, Sammy, you know better’n that. Of **course** I can hurt you. And I **will** , Sam. I’ll hurt you so good. You **like** when I hurt you, sometimes, don’t you, Sam? Mmhmm, I remember, and I know you remember, too. Yeah, Cas took the damage, but he left you all those wonderfully perverse memories. You **know** what I can do to you, Sam. I can turn you inside out, and make you beg for it. You want that, Sammy? You do, don’t you?”_

**_No no nononononono…. Cas? Cas! Dean!_ **

_“They’re not here, Sam. But **I** am. C’mon, Sam, let’s **play**.”_

***

Sam rolled wildly under the covers, twisting violently, his breath hitching in breathy sobs, a dark bruise forming on his arm.

***

_Sam refused to acknowledge Lucifer’s taunting out loud, and turned his back on him, again and again, but somehow the Archangel would just be in front of him again, and he could hear Sam’s thoughts like they were a prayer meant for him, so not being outwardly verbal wasn’t helping._

_And then Sam turned, and saw his half-brother, Adam. Only it wasn’t Adam. It was **Michael** , wearing Adam as a meat suit. And Michael had lost the last shred of his sanity long ago. Before Cas had rescued Sam, Michael had aided Lucifer in torturing him; had, in fact, been worse than Lucifer, more vicious, more cruel, and at the same time, more loving and tender. It was Michael who had come closer to breaking Sam, by far. And seeing him, Sam involuntarily shrank back…bringing him into the contact with Lucifer that he’d been trying so hard to avoid, his back pressed up against Lucifer’s chest. Lucifer wrapped his arms around Sam’s, holding him up, holding him still._

_“Hey, Mikey, wanna **play?** C’mon, big brother, your favorite toy is **baaack**.”_

_And Sam screamed._

_“ **NO! HELP! CAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSS!** ”_

***

Cas appeared, and stepped over to Sam, and shook him, hard. Sam awoke, gasping, just as Dean entered the motel room.

“Cas! Oh, _thank you,_ Cas.” Sam couldn’t catch his breath.

“Sam? What…? Cas? What’s going on?” Dean asked. “Sam? Is it _the dream_ again?”

Sam nodded, his eyes still wide, his breath still coming in short panicked pants.

“Sam, you _must_ sleep. You can’t avoid it. If you get this exhausted, you can’t hope to avoid the dreams,” Cas sounded stern, but Sam and Dean both knew him well enough to know he was concerned for Sam.

“Can you knock him out, like you did for me yesterday, Cas?” Dean queried.

“I can, and that will help _today_ ; but this is an _on-going_ problem. Sam, you have to manage this better. I know you don’t like to take medication, but….”

“Cas, he can’t take _anything_ potentially addictive. You know that,” Dean warned.

“Well, there are _non-habit forming sleep aids_ , but he won’t even take _those_!” Cas turned back to Sam. “Sam, I’m going to put you in a deep sleep cycle, and I’m going to reset your sleep pattern. You’ll sleep three hours now, and you’ll start getting tired again about 9:00 tonight. I suggest that when you start to feel tired, you let yourself sleep. If you go to bed at 9:00, and sleep eight hours, you can get up at 5:00 and go running. But I suggest that you not overdo that, either.”

Sam nodded, his face slightly flushed. “I’m sorry, Cas. Sorry, D.”

“For what, Sammy? _Being human?_ You wouldn’t let me apologize for that, so you don’t get to either, baby brother.” Dean smiled.

“All right, Sam. Get some rest, now.” Cas touched Sam’s forehead briefly, and Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, his body relaxing into dreamless sleep.

Cas sighed.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. Thanks.”

“It’s _Sam_. He needed help. I’m glad that I _can_ help. Just as I’m glad that I could assist _you_ , yesterday.”

“How’s Claire?” Dean asked.

“She’s fine, Dean. I don’t believe I overstepped, but I should tell you that I gave her a brief overview of the parts of your story that she did not already know. Not everything, and not in detail, but enough so that she understands why you don’t feel comfortable accepting things from others. I believe she plans to apologize to you, in a couple of days.”

“Um, okay. I’m sure whatever you told her was fine, Cas.” Dean kept his eyes on Sam…until he couldn’t.

“Cas, I….” he said, at the same time that Cas said, “Dean, I….”

Cas smiled. “Go ahead, Dean.”

Dean looked at the floor. “Cas, I need to apologize to you. For a lot of things, but I’m going to start with what I said that last night at the bunker. It was a shit thing to say, and it wasn’t true. And I’m sorry that I said it, and I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you so often that you actually thought I meant it. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just need you to know that I _didn’t_ mean it, I _shouldn’t_ have said it, and I’m sorry that I did. And I wish you’d come home.”

“Thank you, Dean. That’s kind of you to say.”

“Shit, Cas, it’s not **_kind_**. It is not **_kind_ **to tell someone what they **_deserve_ **to hear. It is the **_absolute least_ **thing that I can do for you, when you deserve so much **_more_** , for fuck’s sake. I’m not saying it to be _**kind** _to you. I’m saying it because I _need_ to say it, because _not_ saying it **_is killing me!”_** Dean quieted. “It’s _killing_ me, Cas. I’ve been cruel, so mean to you. I pushed you away. I take everything out on you, Cas, and it’s not right. It’s just not right.”

Dean turned away, and closed his eyes tightly. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed.

“Dean? May I ask you something?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's not done. Don't stop worrying, yet. ;)
> 
> Dean's not done yet, either. Cas isn't about to let him off the hook, and he's got more therapy coming.
> 
> So, still liking? Please comment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Yeah, heck with dignity.]


	32. Friends and Family Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas talk - finally.

“Dean? May I ask you something?”

Dean huffed out a tiny laugh. “Of course, Cas. Ask me anything you want to know. I have no dignity left, anyway.”

“Why _do_ you always take everything out on me? Is it because you hate me? Or is it because you know that I won’t lash out at you, I’ll just take it, and go right on loving you, like always?”

Dean whirled around to face Cas. “Cas, I don’t hate you! I could _never_ …. **_Shit_**. I guess that’s how it must seem from your perspective. Yeah, I get it. _Fuck_. I’m sorry for that, too, then.

“To answer your question, Cas, it would be the second option, except….”

“Except…what, Dean?”

“Except for the fact that you don’t love me, Cas. And that’s all right. I don’t expect you to.” Dean stared at the floor.

“Dean, I’ve told you before that I love you. I always have. From the moment I saw your soul shining in the Pit, I’ve loved you.” Cas’ head was tilted to the right, a puzzled expression on his face. “Have you really _never_ believed me?”

“Cas, at the bunker, that night, when you told me you were done, I was expecting it. I’ve been waiting for you to leave, for you to just finally be done with me, _for years_ , because I don’t _deserve_ you. After everything I’ve done, in Hell, on Earth, _to you_ , how could you _possibly_ love me? Care about me? Believe in me?” Dean shrugged, helplessly.

“But I _do_ believe in you, Dean. I always have. I always will. Even when you don’t believe in yourself.

“Dean, do you remember the first time I spoke to you?”

“Yeah, in the barn, I remember.” Dean nodded.

“No, Dean. That was the first time that I was able to speak _with_ you; but I had spoken _to_ you already – in my true form. Remember? My voice shattered the glass at that gas station? And again at the motel?”

“Oh, right. You didn’t have Jimmy as your vessel yet. Yeah, I remember.”

 _“_ I was speaking in Enochian, then; but the English translation is: _‘Hello, Dean. Be ye not afraid. I am the angel Castiel, and I will guard and protect you, now and always, for you are the Righteous Man. I have raised you from Hell, and rebuilt you, piece by piece. I know your soul, and it is beautiful.’_

“Did I really forget to say that to you again, in this form? I guess I did. I’m sorry, Dean. I know I’ve told you other times, though, that I love you.

“But I made a pledge to guard and protect you, and I failed in that. More than once, I left you to your own devices, left you alone, failed to watch over you.

“So, when you get angry with me, I understand it. I’m angry with _myself_.” Cas sighed.

“But Cas, when I get angry with you…. I’m _not_ , really. I’m upset and confused, usually because you’ve gone off and gotten hurt again, and won’t let me take care of you the way I should, and…. _I’m afraid_. That’s the most of it. I lash out at you because I’m a fucking _coward_.”

Dean was trembling, unable to speak above a whisper, as he continued, “Like I said, I’ve been expecting you to leave me behind for a long time. _Everyone_ leaves me eventually, Cas. _Everyone_.

“If I push you away, at least when you leave, it’s not because you _want_ to go, it’s because I _made_ you go. If I thought you’d left without me doing something to cause it, simply because you wanted to go? I couldn’t take it. It’d kill me, Cas.

“But Sam and Claire said that you didn’t leave because I pushed you away. They were trying to make me feel better, but it made it _worse_ , because it meant you _did_ want to go. And knowing that? That’s got my stomach in knots, Cas. It’s killing me. _It’s killing me_.” Dean’s knees gave out and he simply sank to the floor.

Cas stepped over to him and laid a gentle hand on Dean’s head. “Dean, I _didn’t_ want to leave. I got up the stairs, and walked out the door…and vomited in the bushes outside. I didn’t even make it a half mile before I had to pull over, because I couldn’t see through my tears to drive.

“C’mon, Dean.” Cas bent and helped Dean up, and got him over to and in the chair at the desk. Once Dean was seated, Cas knelt in front of him.

“Dean, I didn’t leave because I _wanted_ to go. I left because you were so angry, and I felt that you were being unfair. I felt I needed to stand up for myself, and I also needed clarity. I needed to think about whether killing Belphegor and leaving Jack’s body behind in Hell was, in fact, the only way I could have handled that situation. You said I should have found another way, and I needed to think about whether there maybe could have been another way to go. And after Mary’s death, and Jack’s, I… I didn’t cause them, but I did feel guilty, and I knew that you blamed me, and I felt you were right. I didn’t think you wanted me around anymore, and I couldn’t _stand_ to be where I wasn’t wanted. So I told you I was leaving – and _you didn’t stop me_ , Dean. So I left. And it broke my heart.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas.” Dean kept his eyes closed, but a tear escaped anyway.

“I’m sorry, too, Dean.”

“So, you’ll come home?”

“Dean…. I think that would be premature. I _will_ come back. But Sam told me that you are in therapy, and that it seems to be helping, and I, well, I’m talking with someone, too, and thinking about things.” Cas glanced over at the bed where Sam was sleeping. “Might be a good idea for _Sam_ to get some help, too. Between the three of us, the atmosphere in the bunker is still…toxic. I think our talk today is a good start, but I think there have been a lot of misunderstandings and miscommunications between us, over the years, and I don’t think that everything that’s been broken is fixed yet, do you?”

Dean opened his eyes and looked at Cas – really looked, and saw the sadness, the weariness, writ large. “No, you’re right. I’ve done a lot of damage to you, Cas. Saying ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough. If you came home now, I’d just fall back into the same old patterns, and keep hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you, Cas. I never wanted that.”

“Good to know.” Cas smiled, then, and Dean closed his eyes again.

“Don’t smile at me, Cas. I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t get to make that decision, Dean. I get to choose when and at whom I smile. You’re not the boss of me.” Cas grinned.

Dean gave a half smile and an abortive chuckle. “Maybe they should’ve called me ‘The _Self_ -Righteous Man.’”

Cas looked horrified for a second, then got the joke and gave a full-blown belly laugh. After a moment, Dean joined in. They both laughed until their sides ached from it.

“Shit, that wasn’t even all that funny. I guess we needed that.” Dean grinned.

Cas wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Felt good.”

Dean nodded. “It did. I missed that. Missed _you_ , Cas.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Dean.”

“Hey, as part of my therapy, I’m keeping a journal. It’s helping. And I was writing in it earlier, and decided to write letters to people, like you, and Sam, as part of it. Part of what I wrote to you, I said today, but I think you should see all of it. Thing is, I want to run it past Mia, my therapist, first. Get her okay on it. And I don’t want to send you anything that would hurt you. If it helps me to write it, but hurts you to read it, then it doesn’t really help me, because hurting you isn’t my intention. But…if Mia says it’s okay to send it to you…would you read it, Cas?”

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thanks, man.”

“Dean…would you say that we were… I mean, do you consider us _friends_?”

“Well, Cas, there are two answers to that. The first is _no_ , because you and I, we’re not _just_ friends, Cas, we’re **_family_**. You’re my other brother, Cas. The second is still _no_ – because you’re not _just_ my friend, you’re my _best friend_ , Cas. You’re _special_. To say just that ‘I consider us friends’ would be to unfairly discount what I feel for you. You’ve _never_ been ‘just’ a friend.

“So, now let me ask you, Cas. Do _you_ consider us friends?” Dean smiled.

“Dean, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. The best friend I never expected to have. I lived for eons, and I had family, brothers and sisters, but I never had a friend, much less a best friend. And now I have you, and Sam, and Claire, and Jody, and Donna, and Alex, and … the person I’ve been speaking with since I left the bunker, I think she’s a friend, now, too. But you, you’re right, Dean, you mean more to me than the others do. Nothing against them, of course, it’s just that what you and I have is… _more_.”

Dean nodded. “I don’t want to fuck that up again, Cas.”

“Nor do I, Dean. As I said, when I left the bunker that night – thinking that it was over between us, that made me physically ill. And that’s why I can’t come back yet. I’m still fragile, Dean. And I think you are, too. And I don’t know about you, but I can’t keep stepping carefully, hoping to avoid the land mines, and fearing I’ll miss.”

“Yeah. I get it, Cas.”

“Dean. I’m glad we talked today. I’m feeling much better about, well, _everything_. It’s good to know that you don’t hate me. It’s good to know that _you_ know that I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah. Hey, we’ll probably be heading back to Sioux Falls tomorrow, turns out there’s a connection there to the case we were on here. So, I told Jody we’d probably be there for dinner. I know you just saw Claire yesterday, and I know you don’t eat, but….”

“I’ll be there, Dean. It’s family.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, sorry for the cliff-hanger! Sheesh! There! ;)
> 
> Like I said, Cas isn't ready to let Dean off the hook just yet, and Dean needs more therapy - remember, he's only had 2 sessions, even though we're at Ch. 32 (good Lord) already. So yeah, they're not hopping into bed or anything anytime soon. 
> 
> More to come! The boys still have some work in Siren, then Sioux Falls to wrap up this case, then back home to therapy on Tuesday. Remember, it's still only Saturday; this has been a long week for our boys!
> 
> Pleeeeease comment!


	33. Care and Feeding of a Shtriga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Hydecker appears in Dean's dream to tell him how to handle Julie. Sam and Dean catch each other up on the case at lunch, then go to the library to do research.

After Cas left, Dean went in the bathroom and threw some cold water on his face. He knew he wasn’t as physically as tired as Sam, but he still felt wrecked, emotionally.

He went back to the desk, and wrote a short note for Sam, saying he was going to take a quick nap, too, and asking Sam to wake him whenever Sam woke up. Then he tottered over to the other bed, fell into it more than laid down, and closed his eyes. He fell immediately asleep, and into a dream.

***

_Waiting in Dean’s dreamscape was Dr. Hydecker’s ghost._

_“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you, doc.” Dean nodded in acknowledgement of the spirit. “Looks like we found your kid. Julie Hydecker, she’s a nurse in Sioux Falls, South Dakota – and there’s an ‘epidemic’ similar to the one we investigated in Fitchburg in 2005. So, you said we don’t need to kill your daughter. How do we stop her and help the sick kids?”_

_“As I said, Dean, her human form can eat regular food, just like any human. She probably hasn’t realized that her monster form is feeding from the children, which is making them sick. He needs to be feeding from Julie, instead.”_

_“Now, you said that only one form can be in the physical plane at a time, doc, so I’m not getting how this works.”_

_“That’s true, it’s tricky, and it’s why shtriga whose parents get killed before they drop the symbiosis end up feeding off human children – they don’t know how to feed from their human form. There is a physical connection between the human and the monster – it’s how they stay together, it’s how they feed, and it’s how they eventually mate. But it’s hard to see. Julie is less than two weeks into her independence from the symbiont, and she likely hasn’t even noticed it yet. You’ll have to explain it to her, Dean.”_

_“Where’s the connection?”_

_“It’s where a human’s ‘belly button’ would be. It will look like one, too – like a slightly larger than normal ‘outie.’ But there’s a tiny hook of flesh on the end of it, it’s hard to see, and what looks like a tattoo of a blue star just above it. And if Julie pulls on the ‘belly button,’ it will extend out from her abdomen. Then she turns it back, and hooks the hook into the center of the blue star, and she’ll be feeding the monster form. The first few times she does it, at least, she should eat a fairly large meal first, and finish with at least two chocolate bars. She’ll need the sugar.”_

_“And the kids? How do we help them?”_

_“Dean, Julie probably isn’t even aware that her monster form is feeding on them. Once you tell her, and she starts feeding the monster form from herself, he won’t need to come out again. You can tell her to direct her thoughts at him while she’s feeding him, he’ll be able to hear her then. Once he’s no longer feeding on the kids, they’ll start to improve. A few more days on the IV antibiotics, at most, and they’ll be fine.”_

_“And that’s it?”_

_“Well, if you could ask Julie to come here to Siren…. I’d like to see my daughter. Once I have, I intend to destroy the object that keeps me tethered here. I was a good man, Dean, despite what you might think. My monster form’s spirit died again in Purgatory, so I’m just a human spirit, now.”_

_“So where will you go? Heaven?”_

_“Well, I’m not a monster myself, Dean. I’m human. Purgatory won’t take me back. So yes, I expect that I will go to Heaven.”_

_Dean nodded._

***

“Dean, wake up; I saw your note, and I’m starving; let’s get some lunch, man, c’mon.” Sam was shaking Dean lightly to wake him from his nap.

“Yeah, okay. I’m up. I’m up.” Dean sat up and scratched his face.

“So, where are we with this case, Dean?” Sam asked, as he put his shoes on.

“Tell you at lunch, Sam, there’s actually a lot, including the dream I just had. And you’ll never guess what Jody found out now!”

***

Seated in a booth, empty plates in front of them, the boys each leaned back against their seats.

“So, Bobby left us the salvage yard?”

“He left us everything, Sam. The yard, the inventory, the house, everything.”

“And we can actually claim it?”

“Jody’s setting it up so we can, in our “Dean Smith / Sam Wesson” identities, at least. Yeah.”

“Wow.” Sam lifted his glass of water. “To Bobby.”

Dean lifted his cup of coffee, and clinked it against Sam’s glass. “To Bobby. I miss you, you old so-and-so.”

“So, what’s left to do here, then?” Sam asked.

“We need to find some connection between Siren and Emily Stinson, the woman who ‘took Amy Daniels in’ after the crash – and cared for her in stasis for 30 years.”

“Right. She had to have been here, to find Amy after the crash threw her from the vehicle. And she had to have had at least some understanding of what was going on in order to not freak out when Amy didn’t age, and Julie eventually appeared. Do you think Hydecker told her?” Sam wondered.

“Doubtful. If he had, he would’ve known where to look for the daughter, but he said himself he only had a ‘lead’ in 2005,” Dean pointed out.

“Well, but maybe the lead he had was Ms. Stinson. If he knew her name, but not where she was. If she’d already moved to Sioux Falls….”

“And he was trying to track her, but we shut it down….” Dean realized.

“Then Amy Daniels and the rest of the kids all being sick now….” Sam got it.

They said together, “is our fault.”

***

From the diner, they went to the public library and started looking through old local newspapers from 1989 and 1990, looking for any mention of Emily Stinson. They found nothing.

Sam took the papers back to the counter. The librarian, a small, frail-looking elderly woman, took them, and thanked him for returning them in good order.

“Ma’am, I wonder if you might remember someone from the late 1980s, she may have lived here in Siren back then, her name is Emily Stinson?” Sam thought it was worth the shot in the dark.

“Oh. Yes. I remember Em. I knew her in school, she was a year ahead of me. We were friends, once. But we lost touch. I got married, and had two children, and Em, well, she was a bit plain. She stayed single, never had any kids, and, well, she was a touch bitter about that.”

“Do you remember when the two of you lost touch?”

“We fell out after the birth of my second daughter. Em asked me to give her to her, can you imagine? Said I already had one, what did I need with two? I was outraged. And after that, we didn’t speak. That was in 1988. And then, not too long after that, Em moved away. I think it was the fall of 1990. I’m not sure where she moved to, though. Might have been one of the Dakotas…? I can’t recall.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Sam smiled, politely, then turned back to the table where Dean was looking through some old public records.

“Dean. Jody said that Anya Daniels was supposed to be a friend of Emily Stinson, right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, that’s what Stinson told Jody, that she was a friend of Amy’s mother, and when Anya and Michael died, she took Amy in. Why?”

“Well, I just had a chat with the librarian. She knew Emily Stinson, called her ‘Em,’ they went to school together. But they had a falling out when the librarian had her second daughter, because Emily – who never got married, and had no kids of her own – asked the librarian to give her the child. Emily said that the librarian already had one girl, what did she need with two, like that was a reason to hand the child over.”

“And Amy had a twin.” Dean nodded, following along.

“So, if Emily knew Anya, then maybe the crash seemed like the perfect opportunity to get what she wanted. The girls’ parents were dead, the twin was dead, but Amy gets thrown clear of the vehicle, into the marsh, and isn’t noticed by the first responders at the scene. Emily takes what she wants.”

“Still doesn’t explain how Emily knew about the stasis situation, though,” Dean pointed out. “She had to have known about the shtriga, somehow. And what was she doing at the crash scene? Remember, the crash was due to a torrential downpour; it wasn’t safe to drive in, no one would have just been out walking in it, especially not at 4:00 in the morning.”

Sam got that absent look that meant he was trying to remember something. Dean waited patiently, used to it.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm just making up the shtriga lore as I go, here. 
> 
> Comments? :)
> 
> Ch. 34 coming shortly....


	34. On the Road Again....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean figure out Emily Stinson's connection. Alex, Claire, and Jody have leftovers for breakfast.

Three hours later, back in the motel room, it finally hit him.

“ _Water sprite_.” Sam blinked as he said it.

“Water sprite? Emily’s a _water sprite?_ Really?” Dean wasn’t sold, but Sam was already looking up water sprites on his laptop.

“They can breathe air or water. They can live on land, or in water. And one kind of water sprite, the Slavic _vila_ , _steals children_. Usually they replace them with changelings, but if Emily could get one by asking, or where the parents were dead, she wouldn’t need a replacement. Vila are usually friendly, but take horrible revenge on those who insult them.”

“I thought veela were supposed to be beautiful young creatures who made the men around them fall instantly in love,” Dean said.

“That’s veela, v-e-e-l-a, from Harry Potter, Dean. I’m talking about _vila_ , v-i-l-a, from Slavic mythology. And they’re supposed to be beautiful, too, but there are stories where the vain but plain vila becomes jealous of a more beautiful human woman, particularly when that woman is a mother.”

“So, if Anya was beautiful, and somehow insulted Emily, Emily might have wanted revenge, as well as wanting a child.”

“And both vila and shtriga are Slavic mythological creatures. Emily would have recognized the stasis for what it was, because she would have been familiar with shtriga. It fits, Dean.”

“How do you kill a vila?”

“Silver bullet through the heart. But do we want to kill Emily Stinson, Dean? Amy’s real parents are dead, and while Amy’s been alive for thirty-four years, she’s been in stasis for thirty; she’s only four years old. She can’t take care of herself. Where does Amy go, what happens to her? At least Emily cares for her.”

“Does she, Sam? Jody said Amy was afraid of Emily, and Emily lied to Jody. And Emily’s elderly. Remember, Amy’s only been out of stasis for about two weeks, tops, and she’s been in the hospital for most of that time. She doesn’t need to be with her kidnapper. Plus, Sam, remember that Amy was also one of Azazel’s Special Children. We don’t know what powers she might have, or might have someday, if they’re still only a potential thing.”

“Dean, **_I_ **was one of Azazel’s Special Children. You raised me. Was I a threat as a four-year-old?” Sam’s bitch face was epic.

“No, and I’m not saying that Amy is a threat, either. I’m saying that she should be raised by someone who’s aware of the potential for problems. Someone with experience with small children, who’s taken in problem children before.”

“ _Jody_.” Sam’s face cleared.

“Jody.” Dean nodded. “If she’ll take her, it’d be the best solution, from a lot of different standpoints. Jody’s already an approved foster parent, she’s in law enforcement, she’s a hunter, she’s aware of the Special Children, and it’s not going to freak her out if Amy turns out to have odd powers.”

“It’s a lot to ask, though. She took Claire and Alex in, and they both still live there, but they’re adults, now. We’d be asking her to start all over again, with a four-year-old. I don’t know if she’ll be up for it, Dean.”

“Well, she can say no, Sam…. Or… we could take her.”

“Us? You want to take on a four-year-old?”

“Well, Claire wants to give us almost two million dollars, and we just found out about our inheritance from Bobby; doesn’t seem like money’d be lacking, if we need to hire a nanny, or whatever. We’re younger than Jody, and if she didn’t have to do day-to-day care, I bet she’d be willing to help us out now and then with her. We’ve both been wanting to slow down a little, not be away from the bunker so much. You were talking about organizing the hunters, taking over the network. I need to focus on my therapy for a while. Why not?”

“Almost sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for a while, Dean. I know how you are with kids, so I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.

“But _we’re_ not approved foster parents, and getting approval could be tough, given that we’re currently _wanted in at least seventeen states, and by the federal government_. I’m not sure they entirely believe we’re dead, and if we show up trying to get permission to adopt a four-year-old, it could be a problem. I mean, we have to show up as our _own heirs_ just to claim Bobby’s inheritance, Dean. I don’t want to push those identities too far, y’know?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. Jody’s the best option, by far. I’m just sayin’….”

“I know, D. I know. C’mon, let’s get out of here, get some air.”

***

The next morning saw Alex poking through the remaining Chinese take-out containers in the refrigerator, looking for the egg foo yung and the jumbo shrimp.

_Was there even any shrimp left? Jody was kinda going to town on it. Maybe the barbecue ribs…._

Claire entered the kitchen and went straight to the coffeemaker, starting a fresh pot. “Alex? You want coffee?”

“Always.”

“Figured. Hey, is there any orange chicken left?”

“Yeah, here.” Alex handed the container to Claire.

“Mmm. Thanks.” Claire got out a fork, and dug in.

Jody came in. “Oh, good, coffee’s on.”

“Yup. We all three slept in, I can’t remember the last time that happened.” Claire took another bite.

“Alex, pick something, and get your face out of the fridge, please,” Jody prodded.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Did you eat all the jumbo shrimp?”

“No, I left some.”

“Sorry, Alex, I finished it off,” Claire admitted.

“Eh, that’s okay.” Alex brought six take-out containers over to the table, got out a fork, and sat down to eat.

Claire got down three mugs and got out the flavored creamer.

Jody made herself two slices of toast. “Let me know when that coffee’s ready, Claire.”

“You bet, Jodes.”

Jody wandered out to the living room and sat down on the couch, nibbling absently on her toast. Her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen.

“Hey, Dean. Find anything on Emily Stinson?”

“Maybe. We think she might be a vila, a kind of Slavic water sprite. We’ll explain when we get there.

"We’ll be leaving here about 9:30, it’s about a five and a half hour drive back to Sioux Falls, so we’ll see you around 3:00, but I’ll call if we get hung up somewhere.

"Oh, and I talked to Cas, he’ll be there for dinner, too, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, Dean, Cas is always welcome, just like you two are. He knows that. I’ll have the paperwork ready for you boys to sign when you get here, too.”

“Okay, we’ll see you this afternoon.” Dean ended the call.

“Jodes, coffee’s ready,” Claire called.

“Coming.” Jody got up and headed back into the kitchen. “Sam, Dean, and Cas are coming for dinner, girls. Sam and Dean will be here about 3:00, probably; Cas will probably show up when it’s time to eat. Alex, you’re not working tonight, are you?”

“No, I’m off until 8:00 tomorrow morning. Julie will be on starting at noon, if you need to talk to her.”

“Good to know.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not one, not two, but three different supernatural characters that the boys have to deal with here. Four, if you count Amy Daniels being one of the Special Children.
> 
> Who should take Amy? Jody? The boys? Should they leave her with Emily? Should Emily die? Should Julie?
> 
> Comment!!!!!!!!!!! ;)


	35. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean get on the road. Cas and Kathy chat.

It was early November, but it was still fairly warm, so Dean had his window down. The radio was set to the classic rock station, and Dean was keeping time with his thumbs on the steering wheel.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sam observed.

“You know, Sam, I am. We’ve basically figured out this case. We inherited the salvage yard. Claire is insisting on handing us cash. I apologized to Cas. We’ll be having dinner with people we love, who love us back. Where’s the down side? Because I’m not seeing it.”

“Way to bury the lede, there, Dean. You apologized to Cas?” Sam grinned.

“Yeah. We talked. We both agree that we still have things to work through, and it’s too soon for him to come home. But it was a really good talk.” Dean flushed a little and kept his eyes on the road.

“Good. I’m proud of you, Dean.” Sam left it at that.

“Wow, Sam, that’s it? No needling? No ‘ewww’?”

“Nope. That’s it.”

“Not that I’m complaining, but… _why?_ ”

“Because, Dean, I can tell when you’re making an effort, on something’s that’s really important. I’m not about to make fun of you about something that I know is really sensitive. Other things, yes. But not about _this_.” Sam stared out the passenger window at the scenery going past.

“I wrote you a letter, Sam.”

“You did?”

“As part of my journaling. Mia didn’t suggest it, but I thought it would be a good idea to explain things to the people I care about. So I wrote one to _you_ , and one to _Cas_ , so far. I want Mia to read them, first, to make sure that I’m not doing more harm than good if I ask people to read them. But if she says it’s okay…would you read it?”

“Of course, Dean. Should I respond?”

“If you want to.”

“Okay.”

Dean switched off the radio as the song ended. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What?”

“The dream. Do you want to talk about it?”

Sam continued to stare out the window. His voice very low, he replied, “what’s there to talk about? It’s the Cage. It’s not pleasant. The end.”

“Did you sleep okay last night? After Cas reset you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t dream, at least, not that I remember,” Sam said, quietly.

“Okay.”

Dean turned the radio back on, and sang along with Bon Jovi’s Wanted: Dead or Alive.

_"It’s all the same, only the names’ll change. Every day, we just keep drifting away. Another place where the faces are so cold, drive all night just to get back home.”_

Sam leaned over and switched it off. “It’s Lucifer. He’s in my head again.”

“ _Now?_ Or just when you sleep?”

“Just when I dream.”

“Sam, Lucifer’s _dead_.”

“I know that. _He_ knows that, Dean. He says dying just took him back to the Cage to wait for me.”

“It’s just a dream, Sam.”

“Is it? Yesterday, he said he could hurt me, and – and he pinched my arm, hard. _Look!_ ” Sam displayed the dark bruise.

“You could have bruised your arm another way and just not noticed, Sam.”

“Its not…its not _just_ Lucifer,” Sam whispered.

“What else?”

“ _Who_. Who else. It’s _Michael_ , in Adam’s body. Adam’s long gone, and so is Michael’s sanity. I screamed for Cas because Lucifer caught me, and was holding me for Michael. Michael’s much worse than Lucifer. But then Cas was there, and woke me.”

“Well, Sam, then, that’s what you do. Every time. You scream for Cas. He listens for you. He’ll hear you, every time. The second the dream starts, you scream for Cas. He’ll be at dinner tonight. You ask him, I’m sure he’ll say the same….

“You know, Cas did mention that it wouldn’t hurt for you to get some help, too, Sammy.”

“Therapy? Yeah. I’m sure it would help. _‘Hi, doc, I have these dreams – well, **memories** , really – about being in the Cage of Hell with Lucifer, and the Archangel Michael in my little brother’s body, and they torture me.’_ Yeah, that won’t get me locked up.” Sam gave a bitter self-deprecating chuckle.

“Do your therapy with Mia. She doesn’t judge, and she’ll understand that you’re not delusional.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Dean reached over and laid his hand on Sam’s upper arm, near the shoulder. “Sam. Do you think I would suggest therapy if I didn’t think it was honestly helping me? You said yourself that you could see a change in me.”

“Yeah, D. I get it. I said ‘maybe,’ okay?”

“Okay. Letting it go.”

Sam went back to staring out the window. He closed his eyes, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and rub his eyes.

_I badly want a nap. But no, the last thing I want is to sleep._

“Hey, D? I need some coffee. Can we pull off somewhere and get some at a gas station or something?”

Dean looked over. Sam still looked very gray. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

“I went down at 9:00, got up at 5:30. I got my eight, and then some.”

“Okay. We’ll find some coffee at the next exit. In the meantime, _here_.” Dean leaned over, opened the glovebox, and pulled out a pack of bubble gum, then tossed it to Sam. “Keep yourself occupied.”

Sam laughed, but opened the pack and unwrapped a piece. He popped it in his mouth, and started chewing. “Oh, my God, this tastes _terrible!_ How did I ever used to think this stuff was good?”

“Well, to be fair, Sammy, that pack’s _years_ old. It’s gotta be stale as shit.” Dean chortled.

Sam punched Dean’s arm. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

***

Cas shivered a bit as he leaned back against the rock. It was a bit overcast, so the sun wasn’t warming the stone as much. Not that the chill really bothered him, with his grace fully restored. It was more that certain sensations caught him suddenly from time to time, in a way they hadn’t before he’d been human.

“Mornin’, Cas.”

“Hello, Kathy.”

“Saw you were gone most of yesterday afternoon.” She sat down beside him.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Sam had a nightmare while taking a nap. I helped him get past it.”

“And?”

He smiled at her. “And then Dean came in.”

_“And?”_

“And we talked. He apologized. I believe he has more to say, still, but we had a nice talk. We agreed that my returning now would be premature. He still has work to do with his therapist. And I still have part of my story to tell, as well.”

“Is this _your_ therapy, Cas?” She peered up at him.

“You know it is, Kathy. But I believe you are now also my friend, are you not?” He smiled down at her.

“I would be honored to be your friend, Cas.”

“Then I am your friend, as well.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may not seem like it, but I honestly have a plan for this story. And I'm going to stick with it - the story, and my plan for it.  
> Read it, or don't.  
> Comment, or don't.  
> I'm writing for me. I'm posting for you. I don't have to post, if you don't want me to.  
> Up to you.


	36. Paperwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jody chat. Claire and Dean chat. Sam and Dean review and sign the paperwork to claim their inheritance.

Jody read through the papers again as she laid them out on the desk, looking for the third time for traps and loopholes that weren’t there.

_This is safe; this is okay; this is good._

Alex was taking a nap; Claire was up in her room, doing…something.

_I really ought to check on her._

Claire was so grown up, but still, Jody worried. Claire had been on her own so much, too young.

_I love Castiel, but he stole her father from her. Whether Jimmy prayed for it, or not._

Jody glanced up the stairs.

_Unless Claire’s asleep, too, it’s much too quiet up there. I better check. She’ll hate that I checked. I better check._

Jody started up the stairs, just as Claire came out of her bedroom.

“Hey, Jodes. I was just coming down. You were coming to check on me, weren’t you?” Claire smirked at her foster mother.

“Um… no. Well, yes. But….”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. Well, not anymore. I think it’s sweet that you care enough to check up on me.” Claire grinned.

“Ah, uh, okay.” Jody was stunned.

“I’m not that angry little kid anymore, Jodes. You did a good job, you know? I’m okay. Really. I’m better’n okay. I’m good. Even with Cas. I know you worry about how I’ll react when he’s around, but I don’t blame Cas anymore. Cas didn’t kill my dad, Lucifer did.

“And, like I told Cas the other day, my dad, he _prayed_ to be used as a vessel. If it hadn’t been Cas that chose him, some _other_ angel would have. And the others? They wouldn’t have cared about me. Not in the slightest. And they certainly wouldn’t have tried to continue a relationship with me for over ten years.

“I’ve sorted that all out in my head, and I’m letting go of all that teenaged angst that I carried around, all the grudges, all that nonsense. So, I appreciate the concern, Jody, but really. I’m good.”

Claire hugged Jody, and Jody hugged her back.

“Okay, kiddo. I… I’m glad to hear it.”

Then, they both heard the unmistakable sound of Baby’s engine pulling into the driveway.

“They’re here!” Claire enthused.

“Hon, I have some papers I need to go through with Sam and Dean, so take a couple of minutes to say hi, but then, vamoose for a bit, okay?” Jody asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Claire bounded down the stairs to get the door.

Sam got out of the car first. He saw Claire in the doorway, and gave a little wave, and a brief smile, then turned to get their bags out of the trunk.

Dean opened his door, and took his time getting out. He glanced at the door, saw Claire, and winced, then waved at her to come out.

She stepped out on the porch, hesitantly; she’d seen the wince, and remembered the argument.

“C’mere, Claire-Bear. I can’t hug you all the way over there.”

She smiled, and came over to Dean, and he wrapped her up in his jacket and his arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Sam smiled and headed inside.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, either, D. I’m sorry, too. I…I kinda had a plan, of what I wanted to say to you.”

“Go ahead, hon.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you as much as I did. You hurt me, but that doesn’t excuse me acting like a spoiled child. I love you, and still want to give you the money, and I hope you’ll accept it. If you choose not to accept it, I will accept your decision, but I won’t like or agree with it, and I certainly won’t use your share, I’ll just set it aside…. But I _really_ hope you take it, D.”

Dean grinned, then hung his head and shook it, laughing a little. “You’re really all grown up now, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“You sound pretty darn mature, yeah. I’m sorry I hurt you. For the record, you didn’t act like a spoiled child. You acted like a disappointed adult who was being pushed away for reasons she didn’t understand.

“I guess… I mean, Cas said he explained some things to you? I don’t know exactly what he told you. But I hoped it helped you to understand me a little better.”

“Yeah, it did. I’m glad he told me. Are you…okay? After all…that?” Claire peered at him.

“Well, _no_ , not really.” Dean chuckled softly. “I pushed things down and didn’t deal with them, I drank too much, I pushed people away, and I got really angry and bitter, mostly with myself, but I took it out on others – mostly Cas. And now I’m in therapy, and I think it’s helping. Mostly, it’s helping me to see how much damage I’ve done, and how far I have to go to repair things with the people I care about – like you.”

Claire leaned back and looked him in the eye. “Dean, we just had an argument.”

“You said yourself, hon, that I’ve pushed you away. You said you didn’t take it personally, and that’s good, but how you take it is your responsibility; what I dished out? That’s _mine_. The fact that you take my shit well doesn’t make my shit less shitty. And that’s what I have to face up to.” Dean grinned at her and booped her nose. “C’mon, let’s get inside, it’s getting cold out here.”

They walked to the door companionably. Then Claire said, “Jody has stuff she needs to go over with you and Sam, so she told me to vamoose. So, see you later,” and she took off up the stairs. Dean huffed out a laugh.

Jody poked her head out of her home office, and waved Dean in. Sam was already in there, sitting in a chair, reading through the papers.

“You’ll want to read these, too, Dean,” Jody told him.

“Nah. Sam’s the paperwork guy. I trust him.” Dean sat in the other “guest” chair, and Jody walked around her desk to sit in her own chair.

Sam looked up to spare Dean a glance that was at once both pissy and grateful; then he turned back to the document he was reading. Finishing it, he laid it on his lap.

“You sure you want to be a part of this, Jody? I mean, technically, we _are_ committing a crime, here,” he pointed out.

“Sam.” She gave him a warning look.

He raised his hands and shrugged. “We love you, Jody. We don’t want you doing anything for us that you’re not comfortable with.”

“Just sign the damn papers.” Jody gave Sam a look that was at once fond and irritated.

“You should read these, Dean,” Sam told him.

“Summarize for me, Sam.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but then did so. “Basically, the first page is a Will. Yours says you are leaving everything to your friend, _Sam Wesson_. Mine says I’m leaving everything to my friend, _Dean Smith_. We already have those identities established, so we don’t have to do anything further, there. The next page is the probate document from Bobby’s estate that we each have to sign, as _Sam Wesson_ and _Dean Smith_ , to claim the inheritance that Bobby left to us, _or to our heirs,_ which is why we can make this work at all. The probate document lists an inventory of everything included in the inheritance, with an appraised value. Dean, the total comes out to just over _seven million dollars_. I don’t think Bobby ever spent one dime he didn’t have to, except maybe on liquor… _or us_.”

Dean bit his lip. “Old coot.”

“Well, there isn’t much in the way of cash. But if you wanted some cash out of it, you could sell the Salvage Yard’s inventory. Some of the vehicles are complete crap, but some are pretty nice. I could help with that, if you wanted.” Jody looked back and forth between the boys, gauging their interest.

“Has anyone been in the house, since he died? To…pack it up, I mean?” Dean asked.

Jody shook her head. “I don’t think so. The dust is probably overwhelming. I can help with that, too.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

“All those books. All that lore. Just sitting there.” Sam shook his head.

“We can take it back to the bunker, Sam. It won’t go to waste. That’s why he left it to us.” Dean reached over and squeezed Sam’s knee briefly in support.

They signed the documents. Jody handed them the keys to the yard and the house.

“I’ll file the papers tomorrow, with the probate clerk. And that’s that.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, gentle readers. Sorry I'm updating a little more slowly than over the holidays. I'm not feeling well, and I've been sleeping a lot. And I got a bit angsty for about 30 seconds, but I'm over the snit. 
> 
> Please comment. I really do appreciate the feedback.


	37. Before and After...Dinner. What'd you think I meant?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Claire set the table. After dinner, Jody and the boys discuss the case.

Jody headed into the kitchen to start dinner – meatloaf with ketchup glaze, baked mac’n cheese, mashed potatoes with gravy, roasted asparagus with parmesan and garlic, a salad (primarily intended for Sam and Alex), and, of course, pie.

Sam started going through the salvage yard’s inventory list, looking for the Daniels’ car.

Dean went out in the living room and clicked on the television. Claire came down the stairs, and sat down to watch with him. Dean clicked through stations until he found a rerun of Dr. Sexy.

“Where’s Alex?” he asked.

“Asleep. She’s been working crazy hours, she worked double shifts five days in a row. She slept most of the day yesterday, too. She got up for a while this morning, long enough to eat Chinese leftovers for breakfast, but then she went back to bed. She’ll be down for dinner, though, she knew you guys were on your way.”

“Yikes, when’s she due back to work?”

“Eight tomorrow morning. Another double shift. She’s not kidding when she says they need to hire at least ten more nurses, even though they just hired three new ones in the last couple of weeks.”

“Found it!” Sam called from Jody’s office.

“Found what?” Claire asked.

“What we needed for part of our case. Be right back.” Dean got up and went to consult with Sam.

Claire clicked the TV off, and wandered into the kitchen. “Need any help, Jodes?”

“Nope, everything is … under … control,” Jody said, as she struggled just a bit to get the baking dish with the asparagus in the oven at the same time as the mac’n cheese. She closed the over door, turned to face Claire, and let out her breath with a ‘whoosh’. Except that it was a slightly louder ‘whoosh’ than one would expect from just an exhalation….

Claire turned back toward the living room, and saw, “Cas!”

“Hello, Claire. Hello, Jody. They did tell you I would be here, didn’t they?”

“Yes, Cas, I planned for you. Are you eating these days?”

“I can. But it all just….”

“Tastes like molecules,” Claire and Jody finished his sentence for him, grinning.

“Well, Cas, at least they’re hopefully tasty molecules,” Jody teased.

“It doesn’t matter, Jody. It’s family. I’m pleased to be able to be here.” Cas smiled serenely.

“We’ll be eating in about a half-hour. Claire, why don’t you go make sure Alex is up and moving, and tell Sam and Dean to go get washed up, okay?”

Claire nodded, and went over to the office door.

“Cas, are you all right?” Jody asked. “I know there was something off between you and Dean, not the details, but I heard from Claire, when you called her, that you’d left the bunker. You know you could have come here, right? You still can, if you want.”

“Thank you, Jody. I rented a cabin. I needed some space and some time to think, and I needed to be able to be out in the wild, to regenerate my grace. I don’t believe that I am ready yet to return to the bunker, but Dean and I have talked, and we’re…okay.”

“Okay, meaning there’s still crap between you, but you’re talking, or okay, meaning you’ve patched things up?” Jody prodded.

Cas smiled. “The former.”

“Don’t you let him off the hook, Cas. I love Dean, but if you give him an inch, he’ll steal the marathon right out from under you. You stand up for yourself.” Jody patted Cas’ arm. “I love you, too, by the way. Good ta see ya.” She grinned. Then she realized the asparagus was burning, and rushed to the oven to deal with it. “ _Shit!_ ”

Cas chuckled. “Can I help with anything, Jody?”

“No, you go sit down.” Cas sat on the edge of the couch.

Claire came back down the steps. “Cas, take your coat off. Here, let me take that and hang it up for you.” Cas stood and let himself be divested of the trench coat he’d worn almost always since taking Jimmy as his vessel. “You know, Cas, you don’t have to _always_ wear what my dad chose. You could branch out a _little_.”

“I do have a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that used to be Sam’s. And some flannel shirts that Dean gave me. And a pair of jeans. But I find these clothes comfortable.” Cas smiled at his sort-of-daughter as she put away the trench coat in the closet.

“C’mon, goofy. You can help me set the table.” Claire got out dishes, silverware, and glasses, and told Cas where to put things and how to arrange the place settings.

Alex came down, fully dressed for the first time in two days, to find them arranging origami swans made from paper napkins on the plates.

“Where’d you learn how to make those?” she asked.

“YouTube,” Cas replied. “I don’t sleep.”

Claire hooted a laugh, but Cas just smiled serenely back at her.

Then Jody started bringing food out from the kitchen, and Sam and Dean came in from the office, and dinner began.

***

After dinner, Cas helped Claire wash the dishes, Alex went to take a bath, and Sam, Dean, and Jody went back into Jody’s office to discuss the case.

“So, what’s this case all about, boys?” Jody asked.

“We thought it was going to be a simple salt-n-burn, but it’s gotten _really_ complicated,” Sam told her.

“Yeah, it has,” Dean confirmed. “So, what we started with was a child’s voice coming over the car radio, on a particular stretch of road, saying, ‘Mommy, I can’t get out.’ Various people have heard it, most recently, us, but before us, Jonah Hargrove, who crashed his car because of it.”

“That’s a haunting left from that 1989 crash that you had me pull, the Daniels family, right?”

“Right. Turns out Alma Daniels is the child haunting the area, but salting and burning her bones had no effect – except to have her haunt us in the cemetery, as well as on the original stretch of road. But she doesn’t appear, she just turns on the car radio, and talks through it,” Dean explained.

“While we were in the cemetery, a sudden really violent storm came up – along with the ambient temperature. The car turned into a sauna,” Sam continued. “Basically, it was like a replay of the storm the night the Daniels family crashed their car – couldn’t see three inches in front of your face.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “We waited for it to pass over for a while, but we were getting sick from the heat in the car, and it was pretty late, so I figured there wouldn’t be any traffic, so we started for the motel, going pretty slow, trying to sort of feel our way down the road. The storm was so heavy, all the street lights were muted. So, I pulled into the parking lot of a tavern; it seemed packed, and we thought it might be best to wait it out in a crowd.”

Sam picked up the story, “but when we got inside, the place seemed odd, in a way that was hard to define, until we realized – it didn’t smell right.”

“Didn’t _smell_ right?” Jody asked.

“No, instead of the typical bar smells – booze, food, grease, nicotine – all you could smell was lemon-scented detergent,” Dean told her. “Turned out, even what we had thought was coffee was just dishwater. The place was closed and cleaned for the night, and all the bar patrons were illusions, brought on by a ghost.”

“A very specific ghost,” Sam said. “Dr. Hydecker – the human half of a shtriga we killed back in 2005.”

“The human half of a shtriga? What’s the other half?” Jody wanted to know.

“The monster. Even the ghost called it that. They have a symbiotic relationship; the human half eats regular food, the monster half, which is always the opposite gender, feeds off the human half. The two halves of a shtriga are mates,” Sam told her. “If something goes wrong, the monster form feeds off of children – and you can only kill the monster form, when it’s feeding. If the monster form never comes out to feed, a shtriga is basically immortal.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 38 will be posted shortly. :)


	38. More After Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean catch Jody up on the case. Cas checks on Sam. Jody, Claire, and Dean decide to play a game.

“Turns out, we have a lot of history with this particular shtriga. In 1989, we were in Siren, Wisconsin. Dad was hunting the shtriga, and it attacked Sammy, here.”

“Well, it was trying to lay its young in me, actually,” Sam pointed out.

“ _Against your will_ , Sam; I call that an _attack_ ,” Dean countered. “Dad shot at it, but because it wasn’t feeding, he couldn’t kill it. It ran off, and laid its young in Amy Daniels, instead. And when a shtriga lays its young in a human child, it puts the human child into stasis for just over thirty years while the shtriga child develops; it’s another symbiotic relationship. Alma saw the shtriga, and cried out, alerting their parents; Amy became unresponsive due to the stasis, so the parents bundled up both girls to go to the hospital. The shtriga went directly to the hospital, where Dr. Hydecker, the human half, intended to intervene.”

Sam continued, “but because of the stress of needing to lay its young, the shtriga had created a whole weather system, which actually messed up the weather over most of the country that month, including the storm that caused the Daniels’ crash. In the crash, the parents were immediately killed, and Alma Daniels was trapped, severely injured, and died before she could be rescued, but Amy Daniels was thrown free of the car, into a nearby marsh. By the time Dr. Hydecker was able to get to the crash site to look for her, she was gone; he never knew who took her.”

“Remember how hard the rain was coming down that night. Just after 4:00 in the morning, a four-year-old child is thrown free of a car, into a marsh bordering a lake, in a heavy rain, but no one notices. Why? Because, first of all, Amy was in stasis, and secondly, _someone had already taken her_ ,” Dean explained.

“Emily Stinson?” Jody guessed.

Sam nodded. “We talked to a librarian, an elderly woman; she knew Emily growing up, and they were friends. But where the librarian got married, and had two little girls, Emily was plain, never married, and didn’t have kids. She went so far as to suggest to the librarian, when she had her second daughter, that she should give that child to Emily, saying, ‘you have the one, what do you need with two?’

“We think that Emily may be a _vila_ , a Slavic water sprite. They can breathe air or water. They can live on land, or in water. And they’re known for stealing children. Usually they replace them with changelings, but if Emily could get one by asking, or where the parents were dead, she wouldn’t _need_ a replacement. Vila are usually friendly, but take horrible revenge on those who insult them, and there are stories where the vain but plain vila becomes jealous of a more beautiful human woman, particularly when that woman is a mother, so, if Anya Daniels, the girls’ mother, was beautiful, and somehow insulted Emily, Emily might have wanted revenge, as well as wanting a child. Since both vila and shtriga are Slavic mythological creatures, Emily would have recognized Amy’s stasis for what it was, because she would have been familiar with shtriga.”

“And that would explain why Amy is afraid of her, and why Emily lied to me,” Jody said. “How do you kill a vila?”

“Silver bullet through the heart,” Dean divulged.

“So if Emily is a vila, and Amy had a shtriga youngling laid in her, where’s the shtriga youngling?” Jody wondered.

“Julie Hydecker,” Sam said. “She’s a nurse, she just started about two weeks ago, around the same time as the ‘epidemic,’ and her last name is the same as Dr. Hydecker, the shtriga we killed in 2005 – _and whose ghost asked us to look for his daughter_.”

“The ghost says we don’t need to _kill_ Julie, just explain to her that she needs to eat more than a regular human would, and then feed the monster half,” Dean explained. “He told me how to have her do that. He said once she starts feeding the monster, the monster will stop coming out, because it won’t need to feed, and after a few more days on IV antibiotics, the kids will be fine. And then, he asked me to ask Julie to go see him, so he can meet his daughter, after which he’ll destroy the object keeping him tethered to this plane and move on.”

“Alex told me that Julie is working a double shift tomorrow, starting at noon,” Jody told the boys. “If you can talk to her before her shift starts, and she can start feeding the monster internally, the sick kids will start getting better faster.”

“Jody, why don’t you and I go to see Emily Stinson in the morning,” Sam suggested. “Since Dean’s the one who knows how the internal feeding process works, he can find Julie and talk to her before her shift.”

Dean nodded. “You think you can find out where Julie lives, Jody?”

“Yeah, the hospital administrator is already onboard with me investigating the source of the epidemic. Or….” Jody had a thought. “Maybe _Alex_ knows. Hang on, I’ll run up and ask her.”

Jody disappeared up the stairs, and returned a moment later.

“ _Hoo boy_ ,” she said. “Guess what? Alex and Julie hit it off so fast _because they’d both been taken in by foster mothers_.”

“Emily?” Sam guessed.

Jody nodded. “I specifically asked Emily if there was someone else who watched Amy for her, and she said ‘no.’ And Amy’s afraid of the nurses. After I spoke with Amy a while, I mentioned that Alex was my foster daughter, and she said that meant she could trust Alex. I said she could trust all the nurses, and she said no, not all of them. I bet she meant Julie.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Tomorrow morning should be interesting,” Dean commented.

***

Finished with the dishes, Cas gave Claire and Jody hugs, and said good night to Dean. Then he took Sam aside.

“Did you sleep all right last night, Sam?” he asked.

“Yeah, Cas, it was fine. I didn’t run this morning. I’ve been wanting a nap since about 2:00, but I stayed awake and powered through, so I should be able to sleep okay tonight.”

“Well, I hope so, Sam, but if you need me, _call_. As you saw yesterday, I can hear you from within your dreams, and I will be listening. _Don’t wait_ for the dream to get bad. If you recognize your surroundings as the Cage, or you see Lucifer or Michael, and you can’t find a way out, or can’t wake yourself, _call me right away_. Okay?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas smiled briefly, and was gone.

“Well, I know Alex is heading straight back to bed. Anyone else for a game?” Jody suggested.

“Not me,” Sam begged off. “I’m pretty tired, wanna hit the hay early.”

“Why don’t you guys take my room?” Claire recommended. “I’ll be fine on the couch, and my bed is pretty big. And to be honest, Sam, you don’t look great.”

“Thanks, kiddo. I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Sam admitted.

“Well, head on up there. You know where it is, right?” Jody asked.

“Yeah. I think I will. Night.” Sam picked up his duffel bag and headed up.

“So, Dean – game?”

“What did you have in mind, Jodes?” he inquired.

“How about Clue?” Claire proposed.

“Sure, that works.”

Claire got the game out and set it up on the kitchen table, while Jody made a fresh pot of coffee.

“When we were growing up, Sammy and I had this mongrel game that was a mix of pieces of a game of Life, Clue, and Monopoly. We had the Life board, the Monopoly money and some of the little figures, like the thimble and the little dog, and the Clue cards. We made up different rules every time we played. We were missing too many pieces to ever just play one game, but we had fun anyway,” Dean told them.

Claire slid an arm around Dean’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Well, this set’s brand new. I got it for Christmas last year, and I think we’ve used it once since then.”

“Twice. Remember? We played when Donna came for that weekend in July,” Jody reminded her.

“Oh, yeah, and Donna won on like her _third turn_. I was so _mad_!” Claire laughed.

Dean grinned at her. “Competitive, much, kiddo?”

“Maybe I am, D. Maybe I am.” Claire grinned back.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of the last chapter, but it was getting ridiculously long, so I broke it up.
> 
> So. Everyone's on the same page. Tomorrow morning - will they have to kill Emily? What will happen with Julie? Will Jody remember to file the probate papers? Stay tuned! ;)
> 
> Please comment!!!!!! ;)


	39. The Game's Afoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean relapses.

“Dean – coffee? Or beer?” Jody offered.

“Um… I’ll take a glass of water, if you don’t mind, Jodes,” Dean replied.

Jody got down a glass and turned on the faucet, but her brow was quirked.

_Dean turning down caffeine **and** alcohol?_

She handed him the glass. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” he said, absently.

Claire got herself a cup of coffee and doctored it. Jody got herself a beer and sat down to Dean’s right. Claire came and sat across from Dean, to Jody’s right, and they rolled to see who would go first (Claire, playing Miss Scarlet (red)), second (Dean, playing Colonel Mustard (yellow)), and third (Jody, playing Mrs. Peacock (blue)).

Claire rolled snake eyes, and moved two squares; her turn ended. She looked through her cards and made notes.

Dean rolled a twelve, and moved into the Hall.

“Oh, sure, you get to go into a room on your first turn!” Claire pouted.

“Roll better,” Dean suggested, winking. “I think it was Miss Scarlet, in the Hall, with the knife.”

Claire groaned and moved her piece to the Hall, then showed Dean a card, without showing Jody.

“Ah, good to know, good to know.” Dean made a note.

Jody rolled a three and moved three squares; her turn ended. She took a swig of her beer, and set it down next to Dean’s glass. Dean took a drink of water, and moved the glass to his left, so it was away from the beer.

Clair rolled a four, and moved out of the Hall and three more squares; her turn ended.

Dean rolled snake eyes. He moved out of the Hall, and then right back in. “I think it was Miss Scarlet, in the Hall, with the candlestick.”

Claire shot him a dark look, moved her piece back into the Hall, and showed him another card.

“Hmmm, verrry interesting,” he said, making a note.

Jody rolled a four. She moved four squares, and her turn ended. She took another drink.

Dean noticed a drop of condensation rolling down the neck of the bottle, and licked his lips. He took another drink of water, and discovered that he’d finished the glass.

“Sure I can’t interest you in a beer, Dean?” Jody asked.

“Um… Oh, sure, why not. I’m not driving.” Jody got him a bottle from the fridge and handed it to him. He took a swig, and swallowed hard. He closed his eyes, and savored the taste.

Claire rolled a four again, and moved back to her previous position; her turn ended.

Dean rolled an eight, and moved from the Hall into the Library. “I think it was Miss Scarlet, in the Library, with the wrench.” He grinned at Claire.

She moved her piece to the Library, and showed him a card.

“Excellent!” he said.

Claire grumbled.

Dean took another swig of beer.

Jody rolled snake eyes, and moved into the Billiards Room. “I think it was Colonel Mustard, in the Billiards Room, with the lead pipe.”

Dean moved his piece to the Billiards Room, and showed Jody a card.

“Ahhh, I see,” she said, trying to be cryptic. She took a drink.

***

“It was Professor Plum, in the conservatory, with the lead pipe!” Dean said, winning the third game.

In the time it had taken them to play three games, Dean had drunk seven bottles of beer to Jody’s three.

“At least I won the second game,” Claire groused. “I think you cheated, D. You won the first and the third games without breaking a sweat.” She started packing up the game pieces.

“I’m heading to bed, guys. Dean, see you in the mornin’,” Jody said, as she left the kitchen.

“I din’t cheat. Don’ gotta. I’m jus’ that good, Claire-Bear.” Dean winked at her.

“C’mon, Claire, one more game. You need to even the score, doncha?” Dean looked at her hopefully, in an approximation of Sam’s puppy-dog look.

“You don’t do that look nearly as well as Sam, D. And no, it’s getting late. I need to go to bed.” Claire smiled fondly at him, then carried her mug to the sink.

Suddenly, he was behind her, his hands on her arms. “I’m all in favor of going to bed.”

“Ew, _gross_. Don’t even _joke_ , Dean.” She pushed him back, and he went, his hands raised.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” He opened the refrigerator and got another beer. Claire took it from him.

“I don’t think you need any more to drink tonight, Dean.”

“What are you, my mom?” He took it back, and took a long pull.

“Oh, no, that can’t be right. My mom’s _dead_. Again.” He took another good-sized nip.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Claire peered up at him.

“Nah, but I’m gettin’ there. I’m gettin’ there.” He took another long pull, and finished the bottle.

He moved toward the fridge, but Claire got in front of it. “How about some coffee, D?”

“Nah, don’ wan’ caffeine. But I’m thirsty, Claire. C’mon, baby, move out the way for me,” Dean took a step forward and stumbled.

Claire caught him, and he pulled her into a hug, laughing a little.

“You’ve had enough, Dean. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.”

“Nah, I told you, I’m thirsty.” He danced for a moment, turning Claire, then, when she was away from the refrigerator, whirled and opened it, getting out yet another beer.

He popped it open, and chugged the whole thing. “See? Tole ya I was thirsty.” He grinned at Claire.

“Okay, but now, let’s get you upstairs, Dean.”

“C’mon, Claire, let’s do somethin’ _fun_. Wanna watch a movie?”

“No, D, I need to get to sleep, and so do you.”

“You’re no fun, Claire. Why don’ you wanna have _fun_? Don’ girls jus’ wanna have fun? Isn’t that the song?”

“Yes, D, that’s the song, but I’m tired now, and so are you. C’mon, now.”

“’m not tired. I’m _thirsty_ , Claire.”

“No, Dean.”

“Yes, Claire.” He glared at her, suddenly menacing, and for the first time ever, Claire found herself just a little bit afraid of Dean Winchester.

“D? C’mon, it’s time for bed. Please.”

“Already tol’ ya I was all _for_ that, Claire-Bear.” He moved over and hugged her, and suddenly her back was against the wall.

“For sleep, Dean.” She pushed him back, and he went.

“Claire, there’s much better things we could do than sleep.” He smiled softly, and moved back toward her.

“Dean, stop. You’re like my big brother. This is…wrong.” She pushed him back, a little harder. A tear slid down her cheek.

“’snot. I’m not your brother, Claire. We’re not at _all_ related, baby.” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, and she squirmed away.

“Dean, stop. Just…stop.” She pushed him again, and he fell back a step.

And then she heard that soft “whoosh” again, and Cas was there.

“I’ll handle Dean, Claire. Why don’t you go wait in Jody’s office?” Cas suggested.

Claire went, _fast_.

Cas got Dean into a chair, and touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead briefly.

Dean looked up at him, and saw at least three angels, but felt his head clearing.

“Dean, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. _Ugh_.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's gonna be hating himself (more) in the morning.
> 
> Comments?


	40. All Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean apologizes.

“Dean, what were you _thinking_?” Cas demanded.

“I wasn’t. _Ugh_.” Dean’s head was still swimming.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. He knew Cas had removed the alcohol from his system, but he still felt drunk. He vaguely remembered a line from the book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – _“‘and what’s so bad about being drunk?’ ‘just you ask a glass of water.’”_ He felt like the water.

He hunched over, head in his hands, elbows braced on his thighs. He ran his hands back through his hair, and shook his head, trying to clear it.

“ _You upset Claire_. What did you _say_ to her?” Cas asked, and suddenly Dean realized – Cas wasn’t so much _concerned_ for him, as _angry_ with him.

“I… oh. Shit,” he said, as it came back to him. The beginnings of panic started in his stomach.

 _“What. Did. You. **Say**?”_ Cas’ voice was low, but vicious in its intensity.

“Um…she said it was getting late, that it was time for bed. And I said I was all in favor of that.”

Cas looked puzzled. “Why would _that_ upset Claire?”

“I might have been … um … kind of…. I was standing close behind her, rubbing her upper arms, when I said it. The first time.” Dean flushed, and he dropped his eyes.

“There was _more than one time_ that you said that?” Cas growled.

“Um…yes.”

“What were you doing the _second_ time?”

“Hugging her.”

“Was there a _third_ time?”

“No. But…I said some other …inappropriate things. Things I should never have said to Claire.” Dean bit his lip and swallowed hard.

“I see. _You_ will stay here. I will be right back.” Cas went to speak with Claire. He returned a few minutes later.

“Dean, Claire told me what happened. She said it didn’t go very far, and she’s okay, but you scared her because you’d been drinking and didn’t seem able to control yourself. How much did you drink?” Cas asked. He still sounded angry, but his tone was slightly different. Dean couldn’t quite identify the change.

Dean tried to remember. “Eight? No, nine. Nine bottles of beer. Doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“No, it doesn’t. You _will_ apologize to Claire.”

“Of course. I want to. I need to. Right now, if she’s willing to talk to me.”

Cas left the room. A moment later, Claire came in. Dean stood and faced her, his head low.

“Claire, I… I have no excuse. I am so sorry. I don’t know what got into me, to say such things to you.”

“I believe it was _beer_ , Dean.” Cas’ voice came from the living room, and Claire snorted a laugh.

“There’s that, but the beer doesn’t excuse my actions. I really am so, so sorry,” Dean trembled on his feet.

“D, it was icky, not gonna lie. And a little scary, because I knew you were drunk, and you are a lot bigger’n me. But I know you didn’t mean it. You don’t see me that way; to you, I’m just a kid.” Claire had been looking at the floor, but suddenly looked Dean straight in the eyes. “Except… _earlier_. When you first got here. You said I ‘really was all grown up.’ Is that what you _meant_?”

“ _No!_ I meant that what you said made you sound very mature, just like I said. I wasn’t thinking anything else, then, I swear…. But… well, you _are_ all grown up, now, Claire. You’re _not_ a kid, you haven’t been for a really long time. And maybe my having finally noticed that fact is what prompted my drunk brain to act around you the way I did. I don’t know. I just know that I shouldn’t have said what I said, and should never have treated you that way, and I’m sorry for it.”

“Dean, if I wasn’t _me_ , if I was just some random chick in a bar who caught your eye…. Is that how you would have acted?” Claire asked.

Dean snorted. “I’ve done and said worse, drunk. I’m not proud of _that_ , either.”

Claire nodded. “Good. You shouldn’t be.”

“I’ve been trying to quit drinking. I don’t know why I drank tonight. Bad habits die hard, I guess. And I have a lot of them. And one of them is hurting the people I care about.”

“You said earlier that you’re in therapy. Are you going to tell the therapist about _this_?”

“Yes. I should. It’s self-destructive behavior that harms others. Exactly what I’m seeing her for.”

Claire took his hand. “Okay. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t just tell her about _me_. Tell her about the random chicks in bars, too. Tell her about the drinking. Get _help_ , D. Please? I need to know that I can trust my big brother, not just with myself, but to make good decisions in general. And it sounds like maybe you haven’t been for a long time. I get why, you’ve been though a ton of shit that no one should have to go through, but….”

“But my having gone through shit doesn’t give me the right to put _everyone else_ through shit, too. No, I get it, you’re right, Claire. Thanks.”

“I’m okay, Dean. I didn’t like it, but I’m okay. _But you’re not_. And now I’m gonna _worry_ about that. So you keep in mind that _my worry_ is one more thing you have to think about when you make a decision about whether to drink or not, or whether to pick up some random chick and say skeevy things to her. And maybe my worry will tip the balance in the right direction.”

“You’re amazing, Claire. I don’t des….”

“ _Stop right there_. I don’t want to hear about how you don’t deserve my concern, or my love, or to be my big brother. _Not. One. Word._ You don’t get out of being family that easily, Dean Winchester. You hear me?” Claire poked his arm, hard.

“ _Ow._ Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m going to sleep, now. You should soon, once Cas is done with you. Good night, D.”

“Night, Claire.” Claire left the kitchen, and Cas came back in.

Dean looked at Cas’ face, and knew he wasn’t off the hook, and was glad for it. But then, Dean had a sudden horrible thought. “Cas, are you _sure_ Sam really cured me of being a demon? Because I honestly felt like that, again, tonight.” Dean’s fear and shame at the thought of what he’d done and what he might still be, were apparent.

Cas studied Dean’s eyes and touched his forehead briefly again.

“You’re not a demon, Dean. But when you were a demon, it created pathways in your brain to thinking about doing and saying things that a demon would say, and those are still there. You will have to actively resist the temptation to act as you did then, and drinking reduces your ability to do that.

“When was your last drink, before tonight?”

“The night you left the bunker.”

“And how much did you have then?”

“Um… Sam said he’d found an empty decanter and three empty bottles in the War Room, and another empty bottle in my bedroom.”

“Beer?”

“Whisky.”

“You drank almost _five bottles of whisky_? And then went _cold turkey_? And not quite three weeks later, you drank nine bottles of beer?” Cas’ anger was all the more powerful for being extremely controlled. He wasn’t even raising his voice, but Dean knew exactly how far across the line he’d gone.

“Dean, I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want straight answers.

“Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?”

“No.” Dean almost whispered it.

“You’re aware that you’re an alcoholic, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Has your therapy even _touched_ on that fact?” Cas asked.

“No.”

“Have you even _told_ your therapist about your drinking, yet?”

“No.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know, I was mean to Dean, and to Claire. But (1) I warned you he was going to relapse, and (2) I needed to give him an incentive to continue with therapy, and to include his alcoholism, which he hadn't yet mentioned to Mia. And Cas is nowhere close to finished with him, believe me. To Claire - who wasn't hurt, btw - this was a one-off, because she doesn't usually see Dean drunk. To Cas, this is typical Dean behavior that has to change. And the fact that Dean acted like that *with Claire* - for whom Cas is very protective - is going to complicate that.
> 
> By the way, this forum contains stories of rape, incest, all kinds of non-consensual behavior, but I have Dean get drunk and a little handsy, and that's what has people lose their shit? ;)
> 
> Comments? :)


	41. Prioritizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean have it out.

“Dean, I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want straight answers. Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?”

“No.” Dean almost whispered it.

“You’re aware that you’re an alcoholic, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Has your therapy even _touched_ on that fact?” Cas asked.

“No.”

“Have you even _told_ your therapist about your drinking, yet?”

“No.”

Cas reached out and lightly cupped Dean’s jaw. Dean opened his eyes, surprised by the gentle touch.

“Dean, I wasn’t there to take care of you. My powers were _failing_. You could have _died_. Did you seriously think you could just magically stop drinking, without any support, and that you wouldn’t relapse? Do you realize you could have died from alcohol poisoning from drinking five bottles of whisky, or that you could have died from withdrawal by just stopping like that? Dean, do you really care this _little_ for yourself? For the people who care about you?”

“Sam said I had to stop drinking. I…well, I agreed with him. So I stopped. I’ve only wanted a drink once since that night, and I went for a drive, instead. I don’t know why I drank tonight. And I really don’t know why I acted that way with Claire. Cas, are you absolutely sure I’m cured, that I’m not a demon?”

“No, you’re no longer a demon, Dean. But you _have_ demons. And you need to face them, and you need help to do that. How close are you to wrapping up this case?”

“We may be able to finish it tomorrow. Maybe.”

“And when is your next therapy appointment?”

“Tuesday afternoon.”

“So, you were going to just skip it, if you couldn’t wrap the case in time? Dean, you can’t do that. Put it off once, it’ll become a habit. Alastair scrambled your memories. You have bad habits you’ve picked up over the years. You regularly engage in self-destructive behavior that harms, or has the potential to harm, others. Therapy has to be _the_ priority. Not just ‘a’ priority.”

Dean nodded. “I know.”

“Do you? Have you written in your journal at all today?”

“Um… no. I was going to do that tonight, but….”

“But you got drunk, instead. _Do you have any inkling at all_ of how **_furious_ **with you I am right now?”

“Yes,” Dean whispered, staring at the floor.

“But I bet you haven’t got one clue in your head as to the _reason_.”

Dean looked up. “Of course I do! I was _stupid!_ You had to spend your grace and your time coming back here and removing the alcohol from my system, and dealing with Claire’s upset and my stupidity, and….”

Dean trailed off when he noticed the expression on Cas’ face.

“No. Well, the stupidity upsets me, too, of course; but no.

“My _time_? My _grace_? I don’t care about that, _at all_. How many times do I have to tell you, _show you_ , that? How many times have I healed you, or Sam, when my grace was failing? How much time have I spent in the back seat of your car, riding with you when I could have simply flown? No, Dean.

“I’m angry with you because, _once again_ , you’ve shown how little you care about yourself, Dean. You’ve been doing well, you were taking therapy seriously, you weren’t drinking, and then a case gets busy and you simply revert right back to your same old patterns of behavior, even though you know how bad they are for you. You drank, you ignored your therapy work, and then you acted inappropriately with Claire. **_With Claire!_**

“But the fact that the pattern included Claire this time only amplifies my anger. You’re just damned lucky I have Claire on my radar, so to speak. Or is that why you chose to ‘be stupid’ with _her_? Because you knew I could stop you in time? _Just one more way to hurt me_ , is that it, Dean?” Cas’ voice was low and venomous in its intensity.

“N-no. Cas, I-I wasn’t thinking like that. I wasn’t thinking _at all._ It wasn’t about you, I swear.” Dean was sweating.

“Do you think I _like_ watching you, as you kill yourself slowly with alcohol?”

“No.” Dean swallowed hard.

“Do you think I’ve _enjoyed_ watching you, over the years, as you picked up the, as Claire put it, ‘random chicks’ in bars, Dean?”

“No,” Dean whispered.

“You said something yesterday, Dean. That how when you get angry with me, you’re not really angry, _per se_ , you’re upset and confused, and it’s usually because I’ve gotten hurt and won’t let you care for me the way you should. Do you remember saying that, Dean?” The anger and pain in Cas’ voice was fiercely brutal.

“Yes.” Dean was shaking.

“ ** _Sound familiar?_ **I’m angry because you’re **_hurting_**. Claire was upset, but she’ll be fine. _But you’re **not** , Dean_. You’re _not_ fine. And you won’t let me care for you the way I should. And really, there’s not much more I can do. You have to _want_ to change, Dean. You have to want it so badly that the comforting feeling that alcohol gives you isn’t worth it. You have to want it so badly that you make making therapy work for you _the single most important thing in your life_. And you don’t want it, Dean. And I don’t know what to do about that. Because I can’t _make_ you want it. I can point out that alcohol is killing you. I can clear it out of your system and help you realize the latest idiotic thing you’ve done under its influence. But I can’t make you _want_ to change anything. And that’s _killing_ me, Dean.” Cas’ voice broke at the end.

“ _Why?_ Why do you even _care_ , Cas? After everything I’ve done, all the times and ways I’ve hurt you? Why does my _pain_ anger you?”

“ _Because I love you_ , you idiot. And when you love someone with all your heart, _their_ pain is _your_ pain. And when their pain is _self-inflicted_ , it’s like they’re stabbing your heart. You’re stabbing my _heart_ , Dean. With every drink, with every pick-up, with every time you go out on a hunt not caring if you live or die, with every self-destructive thing you do, you’re stabbing my _heart_.

“I told you that I’m still fragile. Apparently, I’m fragile enough to tell you how I feel. _I love you._ _**I’m in love with you** , and you’re **killing** me_.”

Cas sat down, suddenly exhausted and feeling frail.

Dean stood very still for a long moment, then knelt in front of Cas, and looked up, slowly.

“Cas, I… I _do_ want to change. I don’t want to hurt you, or anyone. I know you’re right. About all of it. I _don’t_ want to die. I don’t want to have to keep apologizing, I don’t want to be stupid, and _I don’t want to lose you_. I don’t understand _why_ you love me, but I’m glad you do. Because I love you, too. I know I have work to do, and I’m gonna do it, Cas. I won’t make a promise you can’t trust. I can’t say I won’t backslide again, because honestly, I probably will. _I’m broken_. I’m a fuck up. But I’m going to do the work. Because I want and need to be better, for _me_. Because I want and need to be better, for _you_. Because I don’t want to stab your heart anymore, Cas. Your heart is too important to me for that.”

_“Why?”_

“ _Because_ _I’m in love with you, too._ ”

“Okay.”

Dean put his head on Cas’ lap, and Cas stroked his hair gently for a moment.

“You should go to sleep, Dean.”

Dean nodded and got back to his feet. Cas stood as well, and gave him a short hug. Cas vanished.

Dean went upstairs, and to bed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squee!
> 
> Better?
> 
> Comment!!!


	42. Compassion for Compulsions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean talks to Claire, then Jody.

Dean woke early, and heard Alex and Claire talking in low voices downstairs, then Alex leaving for work. He got dressed and went downstairs. Claire was making up the couch and bundling up sheets. He paused at the bottom of the stairs. She heard him, stopped, and turned.

“It’s really okay, Dean.”

“It’s really not.”

She sighed softly. “Cas give you hell?”

“Deservedly so.”

“Dean, don’t build this up into too big of a thing. You already hate yourself for a bunch of things that aren’t really your fault.”

“This one _is_ my fault, though.”

“Yeah, but this one’s _not_ a big thing. I’m good. You got drunk, you got a teensy bit handsy, you said inappropriate things, and yeah, it made me uncomfortable. But it’s over, you apologized, and _I’m fine_. So, if you’re gonna insist on being guilt-ridden, I’m gonna insist it not come between us. It’s not going to happen again.”

“Damn straight, it’s not. But it’s not over, kiddo.”

“Um…how is it not?”

“I have to tell Jody.”

“No… I really don’t think you do.”

“Yeah, Claire, I do. I have to explain to her why I can’t drink. Why she can’t even offer me a beer. Because I’ll take her up on it. I’m an alcoholic, Claire. I knew that, and I made the choice to drink anyway. That’s on me. I have to take the consequences.”

“Oh. Well, there’s a fresh pot of coffee, if you want to be really awake for it.”

“Coffee? Hallelujah! Winchester, out the way.” Jody came down the stairs, and Dean moved to let her pass, then followed her into the kitchen. He waited until she had her mug the way she wanted it.

“Jody, I need to talk to you. Can we go in your office?”

Jody quirked a brow up, but simply said, “Sure.” She led him over to the office, and closed the door.

“What’s up, Dean?”

“What’s up is that I did something last night that I am not at all proud of, Jody. I had too much to drink. After you went upstairs, I had two more beers. Nine bottles, in all. And I said inappropriate things to Claire, and upset her, to the point that it registered on Cas’ radar and he came back. Claire says she’s okay, and I take her at her word, largely because Cas did, too. He wouldn’t have said she was okay if she wasn’t.

“Cas gave me hell, and I took it, and I’ll take it from you, too, if you decide to dish it out. But I need you to understand, Jody. I am an alcoholic. I cannot be trusted with alcohol. I had too much when I took the first swallow. I’ve been fooling myself for years, kidding around that I was a ‘functional alcoholic’ but never doing anything to stop. After Cas left the bunker, I drank almost five bottles of whisky, and the next morning, Sam told me I had to stop, so I did. I hadn’t had a drop, until last night.

“I don’t know what got into me, why I said the things I said to Claire. But I know that can’t happen again. I already apologized to her, and to Cas, and I apologize to you, as well.”

“Okay.” Jody sipped her coffee, and watched Dean struggle with the fact that she wasn’t screaming at him.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Dean, I shouldn’t have given you the choice. You said you wanted water, and I should’ve let you stick to that, but pushed a beer on you, instead. That’s on me. You took it, and that’s on _you_ , but that’s what alcoholics _do_ , Dean. They drink when they shouldn’t, because they can’t _not_ , until _they decide they need to change_. You have to _want_ to change, Dean. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“When’s your next therapy appointment?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“So, I expect your drinking will be a topic of discussion?”

“Yes, it will.”

“Okay.”

“Jody, not that I mind, but…why are you letting me off so easy?”

“Well, for one, you said Cas already gave you hell, and I expect he was a lot more creative in doing so than I’m capable of being at this hour of the morning, so I think that aspect is covered. For another, I feel a bit to blame. I’ve known you were drinking too much for a long time, Dean, but I never said anything, I just let you keep doing it, and last night, I pushed you to do it. If I’d just gotten up and refilled your water glass without offering a beer, would you have been drinking beer?”

“No. I was fine with the water. Until I saw the condensation on the bottle that you were drinking, and you offered me one. But it’s not like you poured it down my throat. It was still my choice.”

“But it was a choice that you made under the compulsion of alcoholism, which is a disease, Dean. I didn’t pour it down your throat, no. But your disease might as well have. It’s like being under duress. Someone who’s under duress makes bad choices they wouldn’t otherwise make. They’re not to blame for that.

“Plus, you said that Cas says Claire really is okay, she didn’t just say that to get past it, and I trust Cas. So, if she’s okay, so am I. I may not always love your _behavior_ , Dean Winchester, but I always love _you_. That's not gonna change.

“And finally, I expect your therapist is going to have you working on your issues with alcohol for quite a while, and that won’t be easy or fun.

“Now, I expect Cas cleared the alcohol from your system last night, right?”

“Yes, he did.”

“So you were sober before bed, and there’s no hangover this morning, correct? You’re ready to work?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jody nodded. “Okay, then. So, we just need Sam to be up and active, and we can get this case wrapped up today, yes?”

“Assuming it’s the Daniels’ car that’s the cursed object keeping Alma’s spirit on this plane. Sammy found it in the inventory list last night, so after we’re done with Emily and Julie, we can go over to the Salvage Yard, and take care of the car, check out the house, and whatever, and then I think we’ll leave from there. I don’t want to take a chance on missing therapy tomorrow.”

“And if it’s _not_ the car?”

“I have no other ideas for what it could be, currently. But I need to make my therapy appointment, so if it’s something other than the car, we’ll have to figure it out later.”

“Good call, D.”

“Yeah, well, Cas didn’t really give me a choice, there.”

“Of course not. He loves you. He can’t stand to see you in pain.”

Dean was startled, his eyes wide.

“Oh, c’mon, Dean, what am I, _blind?_ ” Jody grinned. “You think it’s some big secret that you and Cas love each other like brothers? If Sam were in your shoes, what would you tell him? Same thing.”

Dean breathed a little easier. “Right, of course.”

And then they both heard Sam’s footsteps on the stairs, and his voice mixing with Claire’s as she told him about fresh coffee.

“Time to get going,” Jody said.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want Jody to have a screaming fit and disown Dean and toss him out on his ear, go ahead and write that story. It isn't happening in mine. In my universe, Dean's family is supportive. They don't always love his behavior, and they'll call him out on it as necessary, but they love him, regardless. :)


	43. Did You Know You Can Drown In Just One Inch of Water? Apparently, You Can Hide, Too....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Jody go to talk to Ms. Stinson. A call to Alex reveals that Julie went in to work early today.

Dean and Sam headed for the Impala, Jody for her truck, for the short drive to Emily Stinson’s house.

“Hey, Sam, I need to talk to you, but it’s a longer conversation than we can have right now. Maybe over lunch, before we go to the Salvage Yard?”

“Sure. You okay, D?”

“Yes and no. Will be. How about you? Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, no dreams that I can recall.”

“Good.”

They pulled up behind Jody and parked at the curb. Jody led the way to the door, and rang the bell. There was no response. Jody knocked, hard, several times.

“Ms. Stinson? It’s Sheriff Mills, I need to speak with you, please!” Still no response.

“Ms. Stinson? Please open the door!” Jody rang the bell again. Still, no response.

“Shit. Okay, you boys wait here, I’ll go around back.” Jody walked around the house to the back door, which had a window in it. Jody peered in. She could see the kitchen, and down the hall to the front door. She didn’t see any people.

She tried the door, and found it unlocked. She cautiously pushed it open. “Ms. Stinson? Are you home? It’s Sheriff Mills,” she called.

She heard nothing to indicate anyone was present in the home. Jody peeked into the dining room, then into the living room, and saw no one.

She went to the front door, unlocked it, and admitted Sam and Dean.

“Doesn’t seem to be anyone home, but we should check the basement, and upstairs,” she told them.

“I’ll take upstairs, the two of you go down,” Sam volunteered.

Jody nodded to Dean, and they scouted for the basement stairs, then headed down when they found them.

***

Sam crept up the stairs. For all his size, and puppy-like energy, he could be remarkably quiet when necessary. He went left at the top of the stairs, and started checking each room.

  * Small bedroom – turned into a sewing and crafts room; no people.
  * Across the hall, small bedroom – decorated as a child’s bedroom, looked hardly used, everything in place; no people.
  * Bathroom – a variety of beauty products lining the counter; no people.
  * Yet another small bedroom – looked at least like someone resided here, a nearly full hamper near the door – aha! at the top, a nurse’s uniform, Julie Hydecker did live here; no people.
  * And one final room, all the way around to the right, before going back down the stairs, the master bedroom – definitely lived in, a bit cluttered, but not messy; no people.



He sent a text to Dean – “all clear upstairs.”

***

Jody and Dean found themselves in a room that, while large, was clearly not the entirety of space available beneath the house; and yet, they saw no obvious doors to another room.

There was a washer and dryer set along one wall, with a laundry sink and a drying rack next to the washer. The other three walls were lined with shelves.

Dean looked closely at the shelving, for cracks or seams that would indicate a hidden door, but found nothing. He shrugged.

His cell phone vibrated, and he looked at Sam’s text, then sent one of his own – “all clear basement.”

And then, Dean had a thought, and he sent Sam another quick text.

He went over and peered down into the laundry tub. Dry.

***

Sam was just about to go back downstairs, when he got Dean’s second text. He huffed out a quiet laugh, and went back to the bathroom.

He checked the sink; dry.

And then he turned toward the bathtub; dry.

***

Dean motioned to Jody, and she stepped closer, as he opened the washing machine’s top door and glanced down into the washer. Dry.

He ran for the stairs.

***

Sam was coming out of the bathroom as Dean reached the top of the stairs, a bit winded. Dean held up a finger, indicating to just wait while he caught his breath. Sam pointed to the door of the master bedroom.

“I didn’t think to check earlier for a master bathroom,” he whispered. Dean nodded.

Sam re-entered the master bedroom, and went toward a door in the wall to his right. He’d neglected to check the closets, too, and he’d smack himself for that, later.

He glanced back; Dean was right behind him. Sam opened the door, and found a walk-in closet – with another door beyond.

Sam opened that door, and found the master bathroom.

Sam checked the counter sink; dry.

Sam gestured to the bathtub, and Dean nodded. Sam went to one end, Dean to the other.

Sam drew back the shower curtain, and they saw nothing – until they looked down, and noticed about an inch of water in the bottom of the tub.

Dean, at the end near the drain, reached in and popped the drain control up, and they both jumped back about a foot as a gushing noise like a river going over a waterfall sounded, and a spray of water went up….

And there before them stood the _vila_.

Not the elderly old lady she’d pretended to be when she’d spoken with Jody, but an enraged water sprite, hissing and spitting _very wet_ curses at them.

Dean recovered first, drew his revolver, and shot the vila with a silver bullet, straight to the heart.

The vila dissolved into a spray of water, which drained out of the tub.

Jody found them a moment later. “Okay in here? I heard a shot.”

Sam nodded. “Dean got the vila, Jody. It definitely was one. She was hiding in the bathtub in an inch of water.”

“No body?” Jody queried.

“Dissolved when shot,” Dean told her.

“Convenient.” Jody smirked at them. “No clean up.”

“We still have to find Julie Hydecker,” Dean pointed out.

“Well, I found a nurse’s uniform in a hamper in one of the bedrooms,” Sam told them. “So I think she does live here, she’s just not here, right now.”

“Try the hospital?” Dean suggested.

“How are we doing on time?” Sam asked.

Jody checked her watch. “It’s just after nine, now. A little less than three hours until Julie’s due for her shift. Might be too early. Let me try something.” She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Alex.

“Hey, sweetie. How’s it going there? … Another one? Hold on, let me put you on speaker, I’m with Sam and Dean….”

Jody put the call on speaker.

“Yeah, they brought another kid in last night, and two more over the weekend. That’s thirteen kids total. I really can’t talk long, Jody, the pediatric ward’s full to bursting, they’ve started putting sick kids in one of the adult wards. HR is trying to get nurses in from Hartford, Beaver Creek, and Worthing to help, because we are drowning, here.” Alex sounded exhausted after only an hour.

“Alex, by any chance, did Julie Hydecker come in early today?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, she’s around here somewhere, HR called her and she came in at 8:00, when I did. We’ve both been run off our feet, and it shows no signs of slowing…I gotta go. Bye!” The call ended suddenly.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, teamwork. ;)
> 
> Comments? Please? :)


	44. Talking With Julie, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Jody, and Sam find and talk with Julie, who tells them what she remembers.

Sam and Dean waited in the hall outside the hospital administrator’s office while Jody went in to talk to her. She wasn’t long.

“Good thing we didn’t try to pass you two off as CDC agents; they’ve been here this morning,” Jody told them quietly upon exiting the administrator’s office. “I said you’re temporary deputies assisting me in my part of this investigation; so, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, I hereby deputize you temporarily. There.” Jody winked at them.

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair and avoided looking at Jody.

“C’mon, deputies, let’s go up to the pediatric ward. The administrator tells me Nurse Hydecker is on duty there today,” Jody said, in her official voice, as she guided them to the elevator.

Once in the elevator, Jody told the boys that she’d gotten permission from the administrator to pull Julie Hydecker away from the ward for about fifteen minutes, between patients. “So, if she’s at the nurse’s station, we can pull her away, but if she’s in a patient’s room, we have to wait for her to come out.”

They stepped off the elevator at pediatrics; it was a madhouse. With so many patients needing single rooms due to the epidemic, kids not suffering its symptoms were set up in rooms of 4-6 kids, and some of them had already been moved down to a ward that was normally for adult patients only. Parents and other visitors were standing or sitting in the hallways, and hospital staff were moving quickly – practically running – from room to room to nurses’ stations, and back again. Because it was unknown how the “epidemic” was spreading, everyone was masked. The end of the ward where the 13 “epidemic” patients’ rooms were located was at least a little quieter, but here people were moving even faster. A woman was sitting on a bench outside one of these rooms, crying quietly; a man was holding a box of tissues and trying to comfort her.

“Look for Alex; she can point Julie out,” Jody suggested. They stood near the central nurses’ station, and tried to watch for Alex, but with everyone masked, identifying her wasn’t easy.

Finally, Alex came out of one of the “epidemic” patient rooms, and saw Jody.

“Jodes? What’s up? Be quick. It’s crazy,” Alex told her foster mother.

“We need to speak with Julie Hydecker. It’s official business, Alex, or I wouldn’t interrupt. She’s not in trouble, we just need to speak with her. Hospital administrator’s given permission to pull her away from the ward for fifteen minutes, between patients, but with everyone masked, and moving so fast, we can’t figure out which one she is. I actually didn’t recognize you, until you spoke to me. Can you find her and send her over? And is there somewhere we can talk to her without being disturbed?” Jody asked.

“Um, yeah, the stairwell,” Alex suggested. “That’s really about it, we don’t have conference rooms on this floor. Her station is number six, I’m not sure which room she’s in, or if she’s even on this floor right now. She might be down on the adult ward where they’re putting overflow kids today. Sorry I can’t be more help, but….”

A doctor called out, _“Nurse Jones! You’re needed!”_

“…I gotta _go.”_ And Alex disappeared into one of the rooms.

“Which one is station six?” Dean asked, looking for something that would identify an individual station by number, and not seeing it.

“Um, over here,” Sam said, pointing to the lit-up number board hanging from the ceiling over the stations.

Just then, a nurse stepped up to the computer at station six, and accessed it, typing something quickly into the hospital’s patient records system. They waited until she finished typing, then Jody stepped up to the counter.

“Nurse Hydecker?”

“Yes?” She looked up.

“I’m Sheriff Mills, Alex Jones’ foster mom? You’re not in trouble, but I need to speak with you, and this is official business, so the hospital administrator is allowing me to pull you away for fifteen minutes. Can we go in the stairwell and talk for a bit?”

“Um, sure, let me just logoff here…. Okay, this way,” she said, gesturing toward the central stairway.

Jody, Sam, and Dean followed her into the stairwell.

“What’s this about, Sheriff?” the petite nurse asked.

“Dean, you want to take this?” Jody asked.

“Sure. Nurse Hydecker, I’m a deputy with the sheriff’s office. My name is Dean; may I call you Julie?” He smiled softly.

“Okay. What’s this about, deputy?” she asked again. “Look, we’ve got a bunch of sick kids, and….”

“Yes, that’s what this is about, I’m afraid. Julie, may I ask what may seem like an odd question? Do you have a tattoo of a blue star on your abdomen, just above your belly button?”

“Y-yes. I don’t even know when I got it, I’ve always had it. I don’t know why my parents would have had it put it on me when I was just a baby, but it’s always been there.”

“Julie, why don’t we sit down on the steps, here?” Dean made the suggestion, and they sat on the stairs, which was a little less awkward than standing. “Julie, what do you know about your parents?”

“I-I’m an orphan. My parents died shortly after I was born.”

“That was in 1989, is that correct?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Where’s this going?”

“Julie, does the name Emily Stinson mean anything to you?”

“Of course, she’s my foster mother, she took me in when my parents died.”

“Julie, in actuality, your parents didn’t die in 1989. They were…separated from you. They died later, in 2005. Emily Stinson wanted a child, and she found you. But that’s not all she found, was it?” Dean asked gently.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” she said, but her eyes were darting from place to place. She couldn’t look Dean in the eye.

“Julie, what is your connection to Amy Daniels?” Dean asked.

“I-I don’t have one,” she denied.

Jody stepped in. “Julie, Emily Stinson claimed to be _Amy’s_ foster mother when I spoke with her. If she’s _your_ foster mother, too, then you must have _some_ connection to Amy.”

“I-I… I don’t know how to explain it,” Julie whispered. “I don’t even know what I _am_.”

“What do you remember about your parents, about their deaths, Julie?” Dean asked.

“I have this very vague memory of being…safe, and loved. I knew my name. I knew that my father was a doctor. I knew his voice. I remember feeling very odd, and having my parents’ voices suddenly muted, then gone. And then there were new voices, voices I didn’t know, and they sounded upset. And there was sudden movement, and warmth, and speed, and then it felt like I was flying, and then I wasn’t. And then I heard rain falling, heavy, hard rain, but I wasn’t wet. And then I heard Emily’s voice for the first time, and it felt like I was flying again. And then…it’s fuzzy, but I remember Emily talking to _me_ , and I could feel that there was something _attached_ to me – a heavy weighty _thing_ that seemed to grow out of my back. At one point, I remember seeing myself in a mirror, I must have been about two or three years old then, and I could see just _part_ of the thing, and it was a _body_ , and I remember _screaming_ , and Emily came and put me to bed, and I could never find another mirror after that. I rarely left the house; Emily kept me at home. Once I got to be too big to keep upstairs. because I could walk and go down the stairs myself, she locked me away, down in the basement.

“As I got bigger, the body on my back stayed the same size and weight, and I eventually realized that _it_ wasn’t growing out of _my_ back; _I was growing out of its back_. I must have been about twelve or thirteen then. And I asked Emily about it, and for the first time, she agreed to talk to me about it. She said it was a little girl, _my sister_ , and that she was fine, but just waiting for me to be old enough for her to drop off and start to grow again, herself. And that creeped me out, but I didn’t know who to tell, or what to do about it. I didn’t know _anyone_ but Emily. Emily home schooled me, she taught me everything I needed to know, she followed the laws, submitted the records, and got me a diploma. And she was a certified nursing instructor, so she trained me to be a nurse, too; and when I could, about two weeks ago, I sat for the RN exam and passed, and got a job here immediately – they were a little desperate.”

“Now, you said two weeks ago, you could sit for the RN exam – so, what happened two weeks ago?” Dean asked.

“The body on my back – my sister – _Amy_ , she… _fell off_. Emily just picked her up and carried her upstairs, and put her to bed in my old room, and then she let me come upstairs, and I had a little wound on my back, and she treated it. And she said I could take the test, and she arranged for it. And suddenly, Amy was an actual _kid_ , talking and awake and aware, but then she got so sick. I was concerned when she got so ill so fast, so I told Emily she had to take her to the ER, but not to say anything about me. I didn’t want to get pulled into trying to have to explain… _all this_. It all sounds so _weird_ , even to me, and **_I lived it_**. I couldn’t imagine how anyone else could or would understand it.

“Please, it seems like you knew at least part of what I was going to say already; _**please** tell me what you know_,” Julie looked up at Dean.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still there? ;)
> 
> Comments, please!


	45. Talking With Julie, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation in the stairwell concludes.

“Please, it seems like you knew at least part of what I was going to say already; _please tell me what you know_ ,” Julie looked up at Dean.

Dean nodded. “It’s going to sound a little weird.”

“I’ve been _living_ weird. Weird is fine, as long as it makes _sense_ ,” Julie said.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. He knew the feeling.

“Basically, Julie, supernatural creatures are real, and you are one,” Dean told her. Julie blinked a few times, but she was otherwise still.

“You are what’s called a _shtriga_. It’s a Slavic mythological creature that has two forms – one human, one monster, always the opposite gender, and the other’s mate. So, your human form, obviously, being female, your monster form would be male. It’s a symbiotic relationship, and only one form can be on this plane of existence at a time. Emily knew what you were when she found you, because she was what’s called a _vila_ , a Slavic water sprite.” Dean’s explanation stopped there as Julie’s expression was showing her fear that he was **_totally nuts_**.

“He’s telling the truth, Julie,” Jody put in, quietly. Sam nodded. Julie looked at them with wild eyes, at first, but then, gradually, with acceptance.

“But what about… _Amy_? Where does _she_ fit in this? What is she?” Julie asked.

“Amy’s human. A shtriga whose monster form is female and human form is male, as your parents were, has to lay their young in the body of a human child. A shtriga whose human form is female bears the child as a human would, but with a slightly shorter gestation period. Your monster mother laid you in Amy, which put Amy into stasis – it’s another symbiosis. Amy had a twin sister, the sister saw your mother, and cried out; your parents had to flee out the window, but then listened as Amy’s parents came in and found her, already going into stasis, and thus unresponsive. They bundled both girls up, intending to take them to the hospital. Your human father, as you remembered, was a doctor, so he went straight there, intending to intervene there, but on the way to the ER, Amy’s parents’ car went off the road in a storm, and crashed. Her parents and her twin were killed; Amy was thrown free, into a marsh, where Emily found her – _and you_. By the time your father got to the crash site, you were already gone,” Dean continued.

“If, as you say, my parents died in _2005_ , how…how do you _know_ all this?” Julie wondered.

Sam told her, “well, ghosts are real, too. Dean and I met your father’s ghost just this past week, and he asked us to find you.”

Julie’s eyes went wide again, and she started to laugh a little hysterically.

Dean took her hand. “I know it sounds bizarre, Julie, but it’s all true. Your father’s spirit would like for you to come to meet with him, he has things to tell you. We can tell you where to go to find him.”

Julie wiped her eyes, which were leaking a little from tears of laughter. “Of **_course_ **you can. Oh, good lord.” She huffed out another quiet laugh, and shook her head a little.

“ _Ask and ye shall receive_ , right? I asked for weird. Hoo boy, you **_delivered_**.”

Sam hooted with laughter, and Jody elbowed him.

“Julie, we know it’s weird and a lot to take in, but we need to you take it seriously, and there are thirteen very good reasons why. Your monster form, now that you’re out of the symbiosis with Amy, is feeding on these kids; _that’s why they’re ill._ It started with Amy, that’s why she got sick first,” Jody explained calmly.

“No! I’m not… _I wouldn’t!”_ Julie startled at that bit of news.

Dean clasped her hand gently. “Julie, it’s okay. It’s not _you_ , it’s your monster form, which is technically _a separate being_ in symbiosis with you. You’re right – _you_ wouldn’t harm a child, but the _monster_ doesn’t know what else to do. Your father’s spirit was able to tell me what to tell you to do, so you can stop the monster from feeding on the children. Remember, your relationship with your monster form is a symbiotic one; _you can feed it_. That’s why the blue star is important. That’s where the two forms are linked between the planes so you can reach your other form. And once it stops feeding on the children and only feeds on you, after a couple more days on IV antibiotics, the kids will all be fine.”

“So, if the monster is technically a separate being, what happens to it if I die?” Julie asked.

“Technically, a shtriga is a couple, but combined, it can only be killed by shooting it with a consecrated iron round while the monster is out and feeding. If the monster never comes out to feed, a shtriga is essentially invulnerable, and immortal,” Sam told her.

“Then how did _my parents_ die?” Julie asked.

Dean flushed a little. “Your monster mother was feeding off of children in 2005, causing an ‘epidemic’ like the one here….and Sam and I killed her while she was feeding on a little boy.”

“But…if my father _knew_ how to keep her from feeding…why _didn’t_ he?” Julie looked a little lost.

“Your mother went into a deep depression after they lost you, Julie. Your father never gave up the search, and he had a lead on Emily in 2005. But he couldn’t get your mother to eat from him because of the depression, so…he let her out. But he did try to help the children who got sick. Just as you’ve been doing, here,” Sam told her, kindly.

Julie rubbed her face, trying to process all that she’d been told. “Okay… Heh. I guess…I don’t really have a choice, here. I mean, what you’re telling me is _off-the-wall crazy_ , but it’s no crazier than my whole freaking life has been so far. I guess…tell me what to do to…feed my monster. _Oh my god_ , I cannot believe how _weird_ that sounds.” Julie buried her face in her hands.

Dean gave her a moment, then told her what the ghost had told him about how the process worked. She lifted the shirt of her scrubs to look at her belly button, and found that there was, indeed, a tiny hook that she’d never noticed on the end of it, and a tiny hole in the center of the blue star where the hook would slide in.

“So, I eat a really big lunch, with some chocolate, and then hook up, and he gets fed? So, he just knows not to come out, then? Or do I have to tell him not to?” Julie wanted to know.

“That’s what your father’s ghost told me about how to do it. I don’t know about communications between the two forms. That might be something you need to ask your dad, when you go to meet with his spirit,” Dean suggested.

“Okay. Well, this has been… _bizarre_ , but… _thanks_ , I guess. Good to know that I’m kind of immortal. So, Amy’s not really my sister, and Emily’s a water sprite?”

“Was. Emily’s gone, Julie,” Jody told her. “She won’t be coming back.”

“What will happen to Amy, then? I mean, her real family is all dead, Emily’s…gone… and I, well, I work crazy long hours, I can’t care for a four-year-old at home, especially one who’s really thirty-four! I’d have no clue what to do with her, and I’ve probably scared her, haven’t I? Oh, god, I bet I’ve scared _all_ the kids!” Julie started crying.

Privately, Sam thought it was a wonder she hadn’t been sobbing long since. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder, and Jody handed her a tissue.

“Julie, once the monster stops coming out to feed, the kids are going to get well again. As for Amy….” Dean paused.

“I’ll take her,” Jody said. “I’m an approved foster parent, she already knows and likes me, and Alex; I have room; and Claire is usually around to help out. We’ll manage. I’ll make the arrangements, so that when she’s able to be discharged in a couple of days, she can come home with Alex.”

“Are you sure, Jodes?” Sam asked quietly. She just nodded once, curtly, and that was that.

“It’s been a lot longer than fifteen minutes. I-I need to get back to the ward,” Julie said.

“I’ll speak with the administrator and take the heat, Julie, don’t worry,” Jody told her. “Go ahead. Just remember what you need to do, and when you’re ready to go talk to your father’s spirit, let me know, and I’ll have the directions for you.”

Julie nodded, and stood up. She wiped her eyes a final time with the tissue, put her mask back in place, squared her shoulders, and went back to work. Clearly, she was determined to try to fix the problems her monster form had caused.

“Well, deputies, _I_ need to go down and speak with the administrator, then get to the courthouse to file those documents with the probate clerk, and then get my butt to the office. _You_ are hereby relieved of duty.” Jody winked at the boys, and Sam and Dean grinned at her.

“Get, go, off with you, go to the Salvage Yard; find the Daniels’ car, explore the lore, clean the house, whatever. And Dean? _Get thee to that therapy appointment tomorrow_.” She looked at him sharply, and his grin faded.

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean nodded, solemnly. She nodded back.

They went back out on the ward, found the elevators, and left the floor.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now they find the car.... That'll be easy, because Bobby didn't stack the vehicles like accordions or anything.... :)
> 
> They also need to have a talk at lunch, and Dean needs to find some time to journal today. Busy busy busy.
> 
> Comments? :)


	46. Up in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys burn the Daniels' vehicle. Then they talk over lunch.

“Let’s pick up some food to eat later, at the house, on the way to the Salvage Yard, yeah?” Dean suggested, as he backed Baby out of her parking space and got on the road.

“Sounds good.” Sam was looking forward to getting back to the bunker. He yawned.

Dean realized they needed to gas up, too, so he pulled into a gas station with an attached diner. “Why don’t you go in and get food for take out, while I pump the gas?”

“Okay. Usual?”

“Yeah.”

“On it.” Sammy disappeared into the diner.

***

Dean pulled into the driveway of Singer’s Salvage Yard, and had to stop; the fence was closed and locked.

“Jody gave me the keys last night,” Sam told him. “Wait here, I’ll get it open.” He got out, shut the car door, and went to the fence, pulling the ring of keys out of his jacket pocket. He unlocked the padlock, and pushed the gate open, and Dean drove slowly through, parking by what was technically the house’s back door. It opened into the kitchen, and he couldn’t remember ever having entered Bobby’s house another way.

Sam walked over and unlocked the back door, and stuck his head in; he tried the lights, but either they were blown out, or the electricity had been turned off. Dean joined him on the back porch, and stuck his head in, as well.

“C’mon, Sam, we need to find the Daniels’ car and take care of that, then eat. Then I can take a brief look at the vehicle inventory, see if there’s anything worth selling or restoring at some point, while you take a look at the lore books, decide what you want to take back with us.... Unless you want to do things some _other_ way…?”

Sam looked at his brother. “Who _are_ you?”

Dean laughed. “I’m just making a _suggestion_ , not trying to order you around. You can make suggestions, too. Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam shoved him, but gently, without heat. “You know that’s the best way to divide the effort and the time we have here, why would I argue for something different?”

“Hey, you _occasionally_ have good ideas, Sammy,” Dean teased. “So, you found the car in the inventory list; any clue where it is out on the Yard?”

“Yeah, should be in the northeast corner, over by the VW bus and that van Bobby kept saying he was gonna fix up, so everyone could go on the road together.”

They walked in that direction, each lost in their memories of days spent in the Yard, or in the house; some were good, some were bad, but all the memories had one thing in common: Bobby.

They found the van, and Sam laid a hand on the headlight. “ _Shit_.”

Dean nodded. “I miss him, too.”

“It’s harder, being _here_.”

“Yeah.”

Sam took a deep breath, and pointed to his right. “Okay, the Daniels’ car should be over here.” They started walking again.

“What kind of car is it, again?”

“Beige 1988 Ford Fiesta.”

Dean groaned. “No wonder they died. Those things crumpled on impact. They’re lucky it didn’t burst into flame, too.”

“Maybe that was the storm’s influence,” Sam suggested. “Beige car here; no, that’s a Honda.” They kept looking.

“Here it is.” Dean pointed to a car in the middle of a stack of five. Dean walked around the stack; all had been designated by Bobby as destined for the scrap heap, and none were worth restoring or trying to sell. “Burn them all?”

Sam nodded. “Might as well. They’re far enough away from everything else that the fire shouldn’t spread. Bobby intended to junk ‘em, so there won’t be gas in the tanks. We’ll just use a little to start it, then get out of the way and watch the whole stack burn.”

Dean agreed. “Let’s get the salt, the gas, and the lighter, and get this over with.”

They quickly returned to the Impala, and pulled the supplies from her trunk.

Sam yawned again.

“I thought you _slept?_ ”

“I _did_ , last night and the night before. Guess it’s just catching up to me.”

They each took a bag of rock salt; they just poured that into the rear passenger seat of the Daniels’ vehicle. It was crumpled and was clearly where Alma Daniels had been sitting when she was trapped by the crash. The rear driver-side door’s window was blown out, and was obviously where Amy Daniels had been thrown from the car. The front of the car was completely crumpled, the engine all the way up into the front seat.

Dean spread gasoline carefully in each of the vehicles in the stack. Sam backed way off. Dean followed, sparked his lighter, and threw it neatly through the rear driver-side door’s empty window into the Daniels’ car. The flames went up instantly with a noisy roar. Shortly, all five cars in the stack were on fire.

They heard a car radio switch on, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from, the Daniels’ car stereo, or some other vehicle’s radio. There was a quick blast of jazz. The radio changed stations; there was a quick blast of some wangy-twangy banjo bluegrass. The radio changed stations; opera. Then, static. And then a little girl appeared in the back passenger seat of the Daniels’ crumpled car. Over the radio, came her voice: _“Mommy, I can’t get out! Daddy! Where’s Amy? Help! Mommy, help! Daddy? Daddy, wake up.”_ And then the ghost went up in flames, and was gone, and the radio was silenced.

Sam and Dean watched until the fire went out; it didn’t take long, there wasn’t much left on the five cars after Bobby’d stripped them down for junking. Thirty minutes, and it was over.

They turned and went back to the house, getting the food out of the car on the way.

***

About halfway through the meal, Sam remembered that Dean had asked to talk.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” he prodded.

Dean sighed. “I screwed up last night, Sam.”

“Last night? What’d you do?”

“Jody offered me a beer. I turned it down the first time, asked for a glass of water. But I finished that off, and she offered again, and….”

“And you took it.”

“And I took it. And eight more. Two of those after Jody’d gone to bed, and it was just me and Claire in the kitchen. And I said some things I shouldn’t have said, got too close, got pushy. I upset Claire, enough to register on Cas’ radar, so he came back. Claire told him that she was okay, and she insisted to me, last night and this morning, that she really _was_. But Cas still gave me hell, partly because it was Claire, but mostly because….”

“Because he loves you, and can’t stand to see you hurting.”

“What, is the guy wearing a neon sign?” Dean was a little exasperated. Apparently, _everyone_ knew how Cas felt. Which just made him feel like an even bigger heel, for not earlier having fully realized himself just how much the angel meant to him, and vice versa.

Sam hid his smile behind his sandwich.

“Anyway, I apologized to Claire, and to Jody, and I told Jody that I just can’t be trusted around alcohol. And I wanted to tell you, too, and ask you to do me a favor.”

“Clear the bunker of alcohol? Dean, if you hadn’t noticed, I already _did_ that, the day after Cas left. I have a beer now and then, but not enough to care about not stocking it. If I want one, I can go out,” Sam told him.

“Okay. I- I haven’t brought the drinking up with Mia yet. I’m going to, tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Why isn’t anyone but Cas mad at me?”

“Because we love you, and you’ve been making an honest effort, Dean. I’ve watched you, I’ve seen how seriously you’ve been taking your journaling. I don’t think you’d had a single drink since that night, had you?”

“No. Cas got pissed about _that_ , too; said I could’ve died of _withdrawal_ , if the five bottles of whisky didn’t do it.”

“He’s right.” Sam finished his sandwich, and slumped back in his chair.

“Yeah. And that reminds me, Sam. I owe you an apology, have for a long time.”

“For what?” Sam was mystified.

“When you were on the demon blood. Instead of weaning you off, like Bobby suggested, I insisted on making you go cold turkey; locked you in the panic room with your hallucinations, and left you here with Bobby to stand guard. It was a shit thing to do, and it could have killed you. And I didn’t get it, Sam. I didn’t get what that was like for you.

“I still don’t, not fully. But when Jody offered that beer, and I could see the condensation on the bottle she was drinking from…the thirst was overwhelming, and even though I would have been fine – better off – with water, I just crumpled like the Daniels’ car. Couldn’t think of saying no. So, I’m sorry that I didn’t – _don’t_ – get it, and I’m sorry I was such a horrible jerk to you.”

Sam smiled softly but played with one of the potato chips that was uneaten on his plate, rather than look at Dean.

“Hey, D? Are you gonna go back and apologize for every shit thing you’ve ever done to me? ‘Cause I can make you a list, if you want….”

Dean laughed, but he still reached across the table and slugged Sam’s shoulder. “Bitch.”

“Ow! Jerk,” Sam snorted a laugh.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a few things to do in Sioux Falls, but they'll head back to the bunker shortly. :)
> 
> Comments??????? ;)


	47. Living the Dream, Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean evaluates the Yard's contents. Sam starts to evaluate the lore books, but falls asleep, and dreams; Cas comes to help.

After lunch, Dean went out to survey the Yard’s contents. Apart from the vehicles they’d burned earlier, there were actually only a few that had been on Bobby’s “to be junked” list; most were in either fairly good condition already, or could be returned to good condition with only a little work. Dean had the inventory list, and comparing it to the vehicles in front of him, his assessment was that the appraised value was fairly low. That wasn’t uncommon, he knew.

He knew that Sam would put a much higher value on the books in the house, too, but they wouldn’t be selling any of those. Sam would cull a few to bring back now, but eventually _all_ of the lore would be transferred to the Bunker; one or both of them would make certain of it.

Dean traversed the entire Yard at least twice, and looked at certain vehicles he was considering restoring himself a third time. He didn’t realize how long he’d spent looking around at the various cars, trucks, and other means of transportation that Bobby had accumulated until he noticed that it was getting dark, and the Yard’s spotlights had not come on.

_Guess the electricity really is down. We should call and get it turned back on; even if we’re not here, the lights serve as protection._

He headed in to the house to tell Sam to get a move on, satisfied with his assessment of the collection outside.

***

In the house, Sam spent his time going through Bobby’s rare books about supernatural lore, creatures, and related content. By mid-afternoon, he was in the old chair behind the desk that Bobby had always used before he’d ended up in a wheelchair. The chair that Bobby had had for longer than Sam had been alive. The chair that allowed the person sitting in it to stretch out, recline back, and really get comfortable. Which Sam had done.

His eyes had gotten heavier as the afternoon had gone on. He’d started out tired and yawning even before lunch. By 4:00, he was nodding over his book; by the time the sun set at 5:15, he was sound asleep, with a book open on his chest.

And that’s when _the dream_ came.

***

_“Oh, look who’s back. Hi, Sammy. Nice of you to join us.” Lucifer sneered at him._

**_No. Fuck. No. Ca-_ **

_“No, I don’t think you’ll be calling for Cas, Sammy.”_

_To his horror, Sam found his lips were sealed shut, except for a slit about half an inch long in the center. He tried praying in his mind, hoping that would be enough._

**_Cas, I really hope you can hear my thoughts._ **

_“No, Cas can’t hear your thoughts, Sammy; they don’t extend beyond your dream. But I can hear them just fine.”_

**_No no nonono. Not real. He’s not real. He. Is. Not. Real. It’s just a dream. That’s all._ **

_“Keep telling yourself that, Sammy. I mean, yeah, this **is** a dream. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t really happening.” Lucifer was suddenly behind him, holding his arms up and back, just like the last dream. Sam tried to squirm away, but the fallen archangel held fast._

_“Miiiiiiikey. Look what **I** found,” Lucifer called, in a sing-song voice. Sam tried to butt his head back to break Lucifer’s nose, but Lucifer just ducked, and laughed._

_And then Michael, still in Adam’s body, appeared. He seemed not to realize that Sam was no longer Lucifer’s vessel, nor that Lucifer was, in fact, Lucifer. He recognized Lucifer as an archangel, and called him “Brother,” but when he spoke to Sam, he called **him** “Lucifer.” Sam trembled, unable to speak clearly, unable to scream for Cas in any way that Cas would be able to hear and understand, and Michael was stroking his face with the back of his hand, gently._

_“Oh, Lucifer, it’s been so long; I’ve missed you.” Michael leaned in and kissed Sam’s cheek. “Brother, turn him around, would you? I need to see how dear Lucifer looks from every angle.”_

_Lucifer spun Sam so that Sam’s chest was against his own, and held him just as tightly. Sam whimpered as Michael slowly moved closer, pushing up against Sam’s back._

_“Hold him tight for me, Brother. Can’t have Lucifer playing his tricks, or running off to **whine** to dear **Father**.”_

_Lucifer nodded and held Sam even tighter. Sam suspected he’d have bruises on his arms from where Lucifer’s fingers were digging in._

**_No. Nonono. This can’t be real. It can’t be real. It’s just a dream, I just need to wake up. Cas, please hear me, please hear my thoughts, Cas, please, I’m in the dream and I can’t get out! Cas! Help!_ **

_Michael started running his hands up and down Sam’s arms. He leaned in and sniffed at Sam’s neck. Sam whimpered._

_“Hush, Lucifer. I haven’t hardly started, I’ve barely touched you. And you’ve been gone so long; I have so much for which I need to punish you.”_

***

Behind Bobby’s desk, the book on Sam’s chest fell to the floor, as Sam twisted in the chair. Bruises did, in fact, begin to appear on his upper arms.

***

_A table appeared next to them. Half of it was empty; the other half was covered with items, only some of which Sam recognized. But all the things he **did** recognize were instruments of punishment and torture – and he wanted nothing to do with any of them. He hadn’t stopped squirming, but now he struggled desperately. But between Lucifer and Michael, there was no escape. _

_He was pushed down onto the empty portion of the table, laying across it, and Michael held him down while Lucifer cuffed his wrists to the table legs on one side, and his ankles on the other._

_“Ah, thank you, Brother. That will make things so much easier._

_"Lucifer, stop struggling, dear one. It’s no use, and you know you **deserve** to be punished.”_

_Lucifer stood where Sam could see him, and smirked. Sam struggled harder, as Lucifer gave a tiny wave of his fingers._

***

Sam’s struggling knocked more books from the desk to the floor. The spring that held the chair together finally gave its last gasp; the chair collapsed beneath Sam, and he fell between the chair and the desk and hit his head, which woke him from his dream, but then, a second later, knocked him unconscious.

***

“Sam?” Dean stuck his head in the back door, and yelled for his brother. “C’mon! We’ve got a long way to go. If you want help loading up, fine, but we gotta get moving, here! It’s getting dark already.”

There was no response. Dean moved into the kitchen, and saw books on the floor beside and in front of Bobby’s desk in the next room. He couldn’t see Sam, though.

He hurried toward the desk, and then he saw Sam, on the floor, knocked out, blood oozing from a nasty cut on his right temple.

“Cas!” Dean didn’t bother with the phone, he simply yelled. “Cas, it’s _Sam_!”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas appeared with a soft rustling noise. He knelt by the desk, and touched Sam’s temple briefly. Sam groaned softly, and Dean moved around the desk to aid Cas in helping Sam up.

“Did you just kill Bobby’s chair and knock yourself out; or were you dreaming again?” Dean asked.

“Dreaming. They _had_ me.” Sam was nearly hyperventilating.

“Breathe, Sam.” Cas steadied him with one hand, and helped him get his breathing under control.

“Sam, why didn’t you call for me?” Cas asked, his head tilted slightly to the right, as he usually did when puzzled.

“I tried. Lucifer was expecting it, and sealed my lips almost completely shut. I tried praying in my thoughts, but he said you wouldn’t be able to hear me outside the dream, though he could, in it.”

“Sam. Lucifer is dead.” Dean tried saying what he thought Sam needed to hear.

“I _know_ that, Dean. **_He_ **knows that. It doesn’t _matter_. He’s in my _head_.” Sam turned to Cas. “Cas, he’s in my _head_ , he’s _there_ , it’s _him_ , and Michael is with him, and they’re _waiting_.” Sam was panicking, and his breathing was ragged again already.

“Sam, calm down. I’ll help you. I helped you before, remember? It’s okay.” Cas started to reach for Sam’s temple again, but Dean stopped him.

“Wait a second, Cas.

"Sam, breathe. Calmly. In. Out. In. Out. You’re awake, Lucifer and Michael are not _here_. We are. It’s just you, me, and Cas, here. Okay? It’s all right. Just _breathe_.”

Dean steered Sam over to the couch, and had him sit there; then he took Cas aside.

“The last time you helped Sam with Lucifer being in his head, you ended up in a mental hospital for _months_ , Cas. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I think we need a different solution here.”

“Those were different circumstances, Dean. Sam was much worse off, then.” Cas went over and sat next to Sam. “Sam, did you sleep all right last night?”

“Yeah, I was fine, last night and the night before. But I’ve been tired all day, like maybe it wasn’t good sleep, like maybe I was dreaming, and I didn’t realize it?

"I don’t remember dreaming. I definitely didn’t have _the dream_ , I _always_ remember that. But I don’t remember dreaming _at all_. So I don’t know why I wouldn’t have slept well.”

Sam was speaking very quickly, clearly still in panic mode.

“Okay, Sam, let me just take a look here.”

Cas touched his forehead again, and frowned, appearing to stare into space as he concentrated on something only he could see or hear.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you not to stop worrying about Sammy yet.... ;)
> 
> Comments? :)


	48. Memory Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas goes looking for answers, and finds what he needs. The boys get back on the road toward home.

Cas found himself in a hallway with many doors; it looked something like the set up in Heaven, but there were no names, dates, or other descriptive information on the doors to tell him what he was looking at, exactly.

He shrugged and opened and stepped through the closest door, and suddenly found himself in a school room with a number of children, who were around the age of ten, he thought. A bell rang in the distance, and the kids packed up their things and headed out – except for one child, who continued to sit at his desk, looking a little sad and lonely. The child sighed.

Then a teenaged boy came to the classroom door. “Hey, Sammy, let’s go. Sorry I was a little late.”

“Can we have mac’n cheese for dinner, Dean?” the child asked.

“With or without marshmallow fluff?”

“Ewww! You wouldn’t!”

The boys left the classroom, chatting animatedly as they walked down the hall.

Cas went back out into the utilitarian hallway, and found it empty.

He opened the next door, and stepped into a bedroom.

Another Sam, a few years older than the child in the classroom - a Sam he _almost_ recognized, but from a little before his time with the Winchesters, he thought - sat on the edge of the bed, as a young woman came out of the bathroom, dressed in a nurse costume, putting in an earring.

“Sam, get a move on, would ya? We were supposed to be there like fifteen minutes ago! _Sam!_ You coming or what?”

“Do I _have_ to?” Sam asked, but he was clearly happy, and clearly going to do whatever the young woman wanted him to do.

“Yes. It’ll be fun. And where’s your costume?”

“You _know_ how I feel about Hallowe’en.”

But then he let the young woman pull him out the front door, still talking about having fun.

Cas stepped back through the door, and found himself back in the empty hallway.

_That must have been Jess. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Sam that happy._

He skipped the next few doors. He glanced through one and saw Sam shoot and kill a young brunette woman, tears streaming down his face.

_That must have been Madison._

He skipped a few more, and saw Sam drinking blood from a young female demon’s arm; she was straddling Sam’s lap, and then she pushed him back onto the bed; Cas closed the door quickly.

_And **that** must have been Ruby._

He walked more quickly, looking for other hallways that might branch out, but it seemed to just be one long hallway with doors to either side.

He peeked into a few more doorways, but each opened onto something that had happened too long ago; they weren’t what he was looking for. He was looking for what Sam was afraid of _now_.

He must have passed easily five hundred doors on either side before finally finding another hall that branched out to his right; once he’d turned down that hall, he could see an open area up ahead.

Cas stopped just at the end of the hall before it opened out into that area, and peered out. And from behind him, he heard a familiar voice.

“Well, if it isn’t the Winchesters’ purse dog. How’s it hangin’, Castiel, ol’ buddy, ol’ vessel o’mine?” 

“Lucifer.” Cas turned. “You’re dead.” Lucifer stood with his hands in his jeans pockets; he swayed his hips forward, his heels rising off the floor, and shrugged at the same time. Then his feet came down, and his hips swayed back, and his shoulders lurched forward, and he smirked at Cas.

“Yep. I have that distinction; indeed, I do. But when you took the _damage_ from Sam’s brain that had been inflicted by the Cage, but left him the _memories_ – and thanks for _that_ , by the way – you left behind a reasonable facsimile of the Cage itself.” Lucifer pointed out into the open area, and indeed, at the far end, there was the Cage of Sam’s memory.

“When I died, I had a choice; I could go to the Empty, or I could return to the Cage. But no one specified the Cage that’s actually _in Hell_ , so I chose **_this_ **Cage, and came **_here_**. To Sammy’s brain. And I’ve been here ever since.” Lucifer half-whispered, “Don’t tell Sammy that I lied – I told him I’ve been here ever since _Detroit!”_ He chortled.

“And Michael?” Cas asked.

“Well, the Cage wouldn’t be **_the Cage_** without an insane evil Michael wearing Sammy’s dead half-brother as a meat suit, now, would it? Technically, Michael’s supposed to be fighting _me_ , but, frankly, he’s kinda cuckoo for coco puffs; thinks Sammy **_is_ **me. I’m really not sure _who_ exactly he thinks **_I_** am; he just calls me ‘Brother’.” Lucifer shrugged.

“So, why aren’t you actually _in_ the Cage?”

“Lock’s broken.” Lucifer shrugged again.

“How does your taking up residence in Sam’s brain differ from using him as a _vessel?_ Why don’t you need his permission to be here?”

“I’m not an archangel anymore. I’m simply a… well, call it _‘a memory, with intent’_. If Sammy could forget his time in the Cage, if he lost his memories of dear old Mikey and myself, we wouldn’t be _expelled_ from him; we’d simply _cease to exist at all_.”

“Thank you, Lucifer. That’s **_exactly_ **what I wanted to know.”

Cas snapped his fingers.

***

“Cas?” Dean shook Cas’ arm – the one not touching Sam’s forehead – and Cas blinked.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean sighed with relief.

“Sam, I believe I have the answer to your problem, but I won’t do anything long-term without a full explanation, and your consent. I’ve temporarily blocked your ability to have a REM cycle, so you won’t be able to dream until I restore it. You might be a little cranky, and not feel well-rested for a couple of days, until I can reverse it, but you won’t have _the dream_ , either. Try to sleep as much as you can. I’ll come to the bunker to explain further later this week; I have a little bit of research to do on my own, first.

"Right now, I believe the two of you need to be getting on the road. Dean, you need to be somewhere tomorrow.”

Cas vanished.

Dean sighed. “I hate when he does that.”

***

The brothers made quick work of packing the books Sam wanted for right now and loading them into Baby’s trunk. They locked up the house and the Yard, then hopped in the Impala, and got on the road.

“Are we stopping halfway again, D?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. We’ll be in Warnerville in two and a half, three hours tops. We both need to eat dinner, you especially need to rest, and I want to write in my journal before I turn in. Why don’t you close your eyes, Sam? You don’t need to worry about _the dream_ , so just get some rest.”

“Yeah. I think I will. I don’t know why I’m so tired today.” Sam turned and got the old blanket out of the back seat. He curled up under it, against the passenger door, and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes, Dean heard a soft snoring, and he glanced over to see that Sam was sound asleep, his jaw slack.

“ _Cas’ll fix it, Sammy_ ,” he whispered, eyes back on the road.

And with that expression of faith, the small (no longer tiny) light at the heart of Dean’s soul gained a little more in size and brightness, just as it had when Dean had admitted his feelings to Cas the night before.

It was shining, steady and pure, now; and it warmed Dean’s whole being.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. Dunno. That seem a little too easy to anyone? ;)
> 
> Comments, please??? :)


	49. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam takes a nap, and wakes up hungry. Dean journals.

Sam slept all the way to Warnerville. Dean pulled into a gas station and filled up the car, then drove to a diner, and Sam still did not wake. Dean went inside the diner and ordered take-out, waited for the order to be filled, and carried it back out to the car, and Sam _still_ did not wake. Dean drove to the motel, parked, checked in, came back out and moved the car, and got the bags out of the trunk, and _Sam **still** did not wake_. Dean put the bags and the food in the room, and came back out to the car.

“Sammy. Wake up, dude. You’ve been asleep nearly four hours.” Dean shook Sam awake.

“Agh, wha… where are we?” Sam shook his head hard twice to clear it, and rubbed his eyes.

“Warnerville, Nebraska. I got us take-out, it’s already in the room. C’mon, get inside, eat, take a shower, and then you can go back to sleep.”

“Um, okay.” Sam yawned and stretched as he got out of the car. He followed Dean into the room, and sat on the edge of one of the beds to eat his chef salad. He downed it quickly, and in less than five minutes, he was done with it and getting ready to shower; Dean was still less than halfway through with his own bacon double cheeseburger and side of fries.

Dean looked up, amused, as Sammy tossed the styrofoam container and plastic fork in the trash. “A little hungry, were you?”

“Just a touch, yeah. You gonna finish those fries? I’m starving.”

“ _You_ want fries? Who _are_ you? Heh. Take ‘em, they’re yours.” Dean passed the fries to Sam, and in three bites, they were gone.

“Dean? Do you think you could run back to the diner, or go through a drive-thru, while I’m in the shower? I’m seriously still hungry.”

“Sure. What do you want?”

“Couple of cheeseburgers, some more fries, another salad, and, I dunno, something for desert.”

“Okay, seriously, _who are you?_ ”

“Dude, I _know_ , all right? But I’m _ravenous_. I swear, you bring it back, I’ll eat it.”

“All right, Sammy,” Dean gave in.

Sam went to shower, and Dean went out to go back to the diner.

***

Dean returned about fifteen minutes later. He let himself in the room, and set the two plastic bags of carry-out food on the desk. The shower was still running.

He pulled his notebook and pen out of his duffel bag, and opened the notebook to a blank page. As always when confronted with an intimidatingly empty sheet of paper, it took him a moment to think of what he wanted to write.

And then he began.

***

_Monday evening_

_So much has happened in the last couple of days, I haven’t had time to write until now. No time to process, to think, even. I wrote my last entry on Saturday morning, with the letter to Sam and the letter to Cas, and now I don’t even know if those are relevant at all._

_I couldn’t sit around on my ass and just think about everything that’s wrong with me, so I made Sam find us a case. It was supposed to be a simple ‘salt-n-burn’ haunting case, but it got insanely complicated. I won’t go too far in describing it, but it turned out to be a ‘cursed object’ haunting, instead, and the object was a car. Turns out, the car was purchased by Bobby, my…well, for all intents and purposes, my second father. And it was still in the salvage yard that Bobby had owned – and left to me and to Sam. In fact, we were his only heirs, and the appraised value of what he left us is just over **$7M**. And really, the only reason we even found out about it was that we took this case._

_I’m worried about Sammy. Turns out he **wasn’t** trying to run away from his life, he was trying to keep himself on the edge of exhaustion, or to keep himself awake, one or the other, so he wouldn’t **dream**. He’s been having the nightmare again, the one where he’s back in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer torturing him. Cas suggested it might not hurt for Sam to get therapy, too, and he’s not wrong. Cas said tonight that he thinks he might have an answer, but he needs to do a little research. For the moment, Cas has turned off Sam’s ability to have a REM cycle, so he literally can’t dream. It’s not optimal, but at least Sam can rest. He slept nearly four hours in the car this evening, and he was starving when he woke up. Our dad used to say, “food is sleep, and sleep is food,” and I can only hope this will turn out to be one of the things about which Dad was correct._

_Also on the subject of Sammy – he’s been **incredibly** supportive. He says it’s because he knows I’m taking therapy seriously and making an effort, but damn if he isn’t going the extra mile. Usually, we both mock each other pretty mercilessly – habits of a lifetime of being brothers living in close quarters – but a few times now, he’s had plenty of opening, and simply refused to take it. He said he knows that I’m working through things, **important** things, and he’s not going to make fun of that. A couple of times now, I’ve had a kind of breakdown, and he’s been careful and kind and reassuring. I know that in my letter to him, I already said that I was proud of him, and damn, **I am**. If there is one thing on this Earth that makes me accept that I deserve good things, it is the fact that I raised Sam, and he turned out so damn good. **I did something right, dammit**._

_I managed to hurt Claire again. Okay, maybe not hurt, but definitely **upset**. She says she’s okay, and Cas believes her, so I do, too. I was drunk. **I am an alcoholic, and I got drunk** , and I said inappropriate things and got overbearing and a little handsy with a young woman who considers herself my little sister. She’s half my age (and Cas’ late vessel’s daughter, which makes her unrelated to Cas, but he tries), and I’ve always considered her to be like my sister, so I have no idea where what I said to her came from._

_Claire asked me, if she wasn’t **her** , if she had been just some random chick in a bar that I was trying to pick up, would I have acted the same way, said the same things? And I had to admit that, drunk, I’ve done and said worse. Way worse. She insisted that I mention that fact to Mia, and she’s right. Not just about the drinking, but the general self-destructive behavior with the potential to harm others, and how drinking makes that behavior worse, and, unfortunately, almost inevitable._

_Claire was upset enough that Cas could feel it, and he came to deal with me. Cas cleared the alcohol from my system, and as soon as he did, I was disgusted with my own behavior. He gave me hell anyway, deservedly so._

_But the primary thing he gave me hell for was my failure to have raised my drinking problem in therapy. And he’s right. **I haven’t mentioned it, and I don’t know why**. It should have been one of the **first** things I said in my very first session with Mia. _

_Cas also said that when I was a demon, it created pathways in my brain to thinking the way a demon would, and doing the things a demon would do, and those pathways are still there. He said that I will likely always have to actively resist the temptation to act in those ways, and that drinking reduces my ability to do that. I should mention that to Mia, too.  
_

_And then he told me that the real reason he was so furious with me was because I was in pain, and had caused my pain myself, and he’s in love with me and I won’t let him help and didn’t seem to want to change. And hoo boy, does that sentence need to be unpacked._

_So, part one : **Cas is in love with me**. Not just that he loves me, as family. **In love. With me. ME.** And when he said it, I knew that I had to change, had to be better, had to do the work, had to make therapy work, because **I DO want to change**. I want to be better, **for me**. I want to be better, **for him**. Whether I “deserve” it, or not, Cas’ love is a **gift** , and I’m not throwing it back in his face. **Because I’m in love with him, too. And I finally admitted it, to myself, and to him.**_

**_I am in love with an Angel of the Lord. And he is in love with me. And it is fucking glorious._ **

_And having it out in the open, at last, between us makes everything at once more difficult, and so damned easy, and **I am so afraid of fucking it up** , and oh, I do **not** want to fuck up **us**. It took us eleven years to say the words the first time. I want to be able to say them **forever**._

_I told him some of the things that I wrote in my letter, and then I told him that there **is** a letter. I said I wanted Mia to read it, first, because if it helps me to write it, but hurts him to read it, then it doesn’t really help me, at all. I’m not that selfish, and I don’t want to hurt Cas. Not again. Not **ever** again. I know that the chances are high that I **will** hurt him again, because I’m a mess, but I don’t **want** to hurt him. But I asked him if, if Mia says it’s okay for me to give it to him, he would read it, and he said that he would._

_Part two : I **do** want to change, and it’s not that I don’t **want** Cas’ help. It’s just that he’s right – **the change has to come from me**. He can’t make me want it, I have to want it for **myself**. And now, I do. And I’m afraid I’ll fuck that up, too, and that fucking that up will fuck up us._

_**So, I hereby resolve** :_

  * _to try to be better about **accepting help** , particularly from Cas._
  * _to try to be better about **admitting when I need help** , particularly from Cas._
  * _to try to be better about **letting Cas know that I need him** , not just for his help, but in general._
  * _to try to be better about **telling Cas that I love him, how much I love him**._



_No, wait, that last one’s not a “try”. I resolve to **be** better._

_Because I **have** to be better about that. I have to tell him more often._

_Preferably daily. In many, varied, interesting and exciting ways._

_**I am in love with Cas. Cas is in love with me.** That is wondrous and wonderful and so, so damn scary._

_I told Cas that I wished that he’d come home. He agreed that the bunker **is** his home, and said that he **will** come back, but not yet. He said that when he left the bunker that night, thinking that it was over between us, that made him physically ill, he actually vomited in the bushes outside the front door, and that he’s still fragile, and so am I. And he said that we “can’t keep stepping carefully, hoping to avoid the land mines, and fearing we’ll miss.” And he’s **right**. If he came home now, there’s too great a chance that I’ll backslide into bad habits, the patterns I’ve built up, and I’ll hurt him again, and **I do not want to do that**. He’s got a cabin out in the woods that he rented, apparently, and he’ll stay there for now, but he’ll be available if we need him. We can call, and he’ll come._

_Anyway, long story short (too late!), we resolved a lot, and we both feel better for it. And we’re going to make it, because I won’t accept less. Not anymore._

_**I am in love with Cas, and Cas is in love with me**. And that's **everything**.  
_

***

Dean capped the pen, and smiled, reading that last line again.

And then he realized that the shower was still running.

_Sam’s been in the shower for nearly an **hour**?_

“Sam? **_Sammy?_** ”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's making progress. Aren't you proud of our boy? :)  
> Still worried about Sam? You should be.
> 
> Comments?????? :)


	50. Cas to the Rescue - Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas again comes to the rescue, then sticks around. Dean gets them home to the Bunker.

Dean knocked on the bathroom door; no response. He tried the knob, and it turned, so he entered.

The room was cold, almost icy; clearly, the water hadn’t been hot for some time. He shoved the shower curtain to one side, and saw Sam in a heap in the bottom of the tub.

_Shit._

He turned the water off, and bent to hoist Sam up into a fireman carry, wincing as he felt how cold Sam’s skin was.

Dean carried Sam into the other room and laid him out on a bed, covering him with all the sheets and blankets from both, plus several dry towels.

“ _Cas! It’s Sam!_ ” he called out.

“Hello, Dean. What’s wrong?” Cas asked, startling Dean a little.

_I really should be used to that by now._

“Sam. I found him in the shower, passed out. He’d been in there so long, the water had gotten really cold, and he’s like ice to the touch. I don’t know what happened.” Cas stepped over and touched Sam’s forehead gently.

“He slept nearly four hours, all the way here from Sioux Falls, and then he was ravenously hungry. He asked me to go back to the diner while he showered and get him more food. I was only gone about fifteen minutes, and he was in the shower when I got back, but I didn’t think anything of it. And then I sat down to write in my journal, and I wasn’t paying attention to anything else, and I wrote for about forty minutes. When I finally finished, I realized how long he’d been in there, so I went in and found him.”

Cas lifted his fingers from Sam’s temple. “He’s all right, just exhausted. I’ve brought his body temperature up to normal, so you can remove the extra bedding. Let him sleep; if he wakes up, have him eat and drink as much water as possible. If you need him to move, to get him dressed and out to the car in the morning, or from the car into the bunker, keep it short, and let him go back to sleep as soon as he can.

“How long has it been since he slept _properly_?” Cas asked.

“I’m really not sure, Cas. I know he’s been running long distances almost every day. I even asked him if he was training to run another marathon – he’s done them before, so it was possible – but I don’t know how long he’s been going without sleep to avoid dreaming,” Dean admitted. “He didn’t say anything until the other day.”

Cas nodded. “Neither of you likes to admit when you need assistance. I’ve been aware that Sam was trying to avoid dreaming for a while, but I wasn’t aware of the extremes to which he was going to do so until just recently.

"Well, he’ll be all right now, so, I should g….”

“Wanna watch a movie, Cas?” Dean asked, staring at the floor, his left index finger tapping on his thigh rhythmically.

“Shouldn’t _you_ get some sleep, Dean?” Cas asked gently.

“It’s just 10:00. I’m not all that tired yet. And…well…I miss you, man.”

“Dean, you’ve seen me every day, a couple of times per day, for the last three days in a row.” Cas smiled softly.

“I know. So? We haven’t had a movie night in over a month,” Dean pointed out.

“Well…I do love movie night,” Cas admitted.

“I have pie.”

“You _always_ have pie.”

“I have enough to **_share_**.”

“Ah, well. That’s different,” Cas grinned.

“So, would you like to share my pie and watch a movie with me, Cas?” Dean asked, quietly.

“Yes, Dean.”

***

Dean woke up suddenly in his bed, with no memory of how he’d gotten there, and not quite understanding what had awakened him. Then he realized: it had been the soft rustling swish of Cas’ wings; and, now that he thought about it, he became fully cognizant of the fact that he only heard it _sometimes_.

 _Cas can be totally silent, when he wants to startle me_.

He sat up, not groggy as he usually was without coffee, and realized he probably had Cas to thank for that, too. He smiled softly.

They’d started out on the couch, each at their respective end of it, watching _Tombstone_ , which had happened to be on when he’d switched on the TV. And within 15 minutes, they’d each edged closer to the other, until they were sharing the center of the couch, Cas’ head leaning against his shoulder, his head leaning against Cas’ head. And then…he must have dozed off, because for the life of him, he couldn’t remember watching much of the movie after the first half hour.

_We didn’t fight. Didn’t snipe at each other once._

He glanced at the alarm clock; it was early yet, there was plenty of time to shower, dress, pack up, drive the rest of the way back to the bunker, unload the gear and get Sam tucked in, eat some lunch, and get to his appointment. He stretched, and for once, there were no kinks in his back, no muscle aches, nothing hurt, and he felt relaxed and well-rested.

_Cas’ grace really **has** regenerated, if he’s using it to just ease my general aches now. I need to remember to thank him._

He let Sam sleep while he got in the shower, hot water miraculously restored. He got dressed quickly, and ate one of the leftover burgers (he’d gotten extra for himself, as well as the ones for Sam, when he went back to the diner). He packed up their things, and loaded the car.

He sat gingerly on the edge of Sam’s bed. “Sammy, time to wake up now. C’mon, we’ve gotta go, it’s time.”

Sam’s eyes fluttered open. “Still _tired_ , D.”

“I know, you can sleep in the car. I’ve got food for you, though it’s cold now, and we’ll go through a drive-thru for coffee quick. But we need to get moving. Here,” Dean handed him a stack of clothing. “Get dressed, quick, and we’ll get you down to the car.”

Sam rubbed his eyes, and moved slowly, but got up and dressed. Dean helped him down to the car and got him settled with a burger and the blanket, then ran back to the office to check out quickly.

By the time Dean got back to the Impala, the burger was gone, and Sam was again sound asleep, stretched out across the front seat. Dean huffed a quick laugh, and gently pushed his brother’s feet down off the seat, so he could get in and drive the car.

_Guess **Sam** doesn’t need coffee. Well, I **do**._

Dean found a Starbucks with a drive-thru about a block from the motel, and, since no one was awake to hear him order it, got himself a venti white chocolate mocha frappucino with two shots of espresso…and a tall black coffee. And then he headed back to the highway, and for home.

***

Sam had awakened once on the drive home, long enough to drink a cup of coffee and eat another cold burger and his salad from the night before (Dean had tossed the sad forgotten cold french fries when he’d pulled over to fuel up again), but then had gone immediately right back to sleep.

Dean pulled into the Bunker’s garage and parked. He unloaded the car and put a load of laundry in, then came back out to the garage.

“Sam. Time to wake up, we’re home. C’mon, you can sleep in your own bed now, but you gotta wake up to get there, man.” Dean prodded him gently.

“ _Wahgah. Ugh_. My mouth tastes _disgusting_. Need to brush teeth,” was Sam’s contribution to the sparkling conversation.

“Okay, champ, you can do that, too, but you need to get out of the car. C’mon, let’s go.” Dean helped Sam to stand, and watched carefully to see if he’d wobble, but he seemed to be all right.

“You’ve had at least sixteen hours of sleep now; are you feeling any better, Sammy?”

“Little bit. Still _tired_ , but not as bad.”

Dean nodded. “Go brush your teeth, and do whatever, then go to bed. Rest up. Best thing for you.”

“Where’s my bag?” Sam looked around for it.

“I took the gear in and started the laundry already. C’mon, you just have to get _you_ inside, man.”

“Okay. Thanks, D.”

“For what? Letting you sleep? Not sure how I could have _stopped_ you, frankly.” Dean grinned at him. “Are you hungry at all now? I have time for lunch, before I go to therapy.”

“Not right now, no. I have a feeling I will be, though, later.”

“Okay. I’ll make dinner when I get back, and wake you when it’s ready; you can decide then if you want to get up to eat, or not.”

“Sounds good.” Sam shuffled into the bathroom.

Dean headed for the kitchen, and made himself a sandwich, which he ate quickly. Then he got his journal notebook, went to Sam’s room to check on him (fully dressed except for shoes, but under the covers, sound asleep), then went back to the garage to leave for therapy.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep worrying. Sammy is so not out of the woods yet.
> 
> Comments? Please?? *sniffle*


	51. Third Therapy Session, Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's third session with Mia.

“Hello, Dean. Come in, please,” Mia stepped back to allow Dean to enter her office. He stepped in, and offered her his journal. She took it, saying, “Please, have a seat.”

Dean sat down on the couch.

“So, Dean, how did your homework go this past week?” Mia asked.

“Well, it went a little weirdly, actually. This was a really long week. I wrote about most of it.” Dean gestured to the notebook.

“Perhaps I should read what you wrote, then. Is that all right, Dean?”

“Yeah. And if you have questions, I can explain things.”

Mia nodded. She opened the notebook, and passed quickly through the pages from his earlier assignment, which she had already seen. She found the entry written the same day as his last session, and began to read. She nodded occasionally, as if agreeing with some point Dean had made in his writing.

“So, in your entry last Tuesday, after our last session, you wrote about how afraid you were, how much stress you were under as a child, and how you couldn’t let your brother see your fear, because then he’d also be afraid, and it would cause a ‘feedback loop of never-ending terror.’ You say here that ‘humor, charm, and competence became my cover.’ I think that’s very insightful, Dean. I wonder, have you ever told your brother, I mean, since he became an adult, about those specific feelings that you had, back then?” Mia asked.

“No. I’ve never discussed it with Sam. He’s thanked me, a few times, for raising him, it’s not like he’s unaware of what I had to do. But no, I’ve never made it clear to him what it meant to me to have to do it, or how scared I was that I would fail.”

Mia nodded again. “You say here that you _made_ your father put Sam in kindergarten; was he not intending to send you and your brother to school?”

“I don’t think it had really crossed his mind. I missed so much school, they had to hold me back. I knew Sammy was smart, he started reading on his own, and then I worked on it with him so he’d get better at it. I didn’t want him to miss out.”

“You didn’t want him to miss out, _the way you had_ , you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“You say here that back then, you resented him for being the one who got to be good in school, while you couldn’t concentrate in your classes due to your concerns over having to take care of everything. I wonder, Dean, have you ever considered that if you _hadn’t_ had those concerns, _had_ been able to concentrate, that you might have been seen to be just as bright as Sam?”

“Oh, no, I’m not, Mia. Sam’s _always_ been the smart one.”

“Because Sam was **_allowed_ **to be the smart one, Dean. You certainly don’t strike me as being in any way mentally deficient. At some point, Dean, it might be interesting to have you take an IQ test, and some cognitive evaluation tests, and prove it to you.” Mia grinned at him, then turned the page to his entry from Wednesday afternoon.

“Oh, you say here that you find journaling soothing; I’m so glad that you like it, Dean.”

Mia continued to read, and flushed a little; he knew she’d gotten to the part where he’d said that he trusted her not to judge him for what he chose to write about, and he smiled. She glanced up and saw the smile. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Thank _you_.”

“So, Sam did remember seeing your father hitting you. That’s too bad. Hmmm. You say here that you ‘remember Hell.’ I take it that’s _literal_?”

Dean nodded. “I was dead for four months; in Hell’s time, that’s forty years.”

“You say here that ‘a certain angel pulled you out’ and then you talk about someone named Cas pulling Sam out of a Cage. You want to fill in the blanks a little here, Dean?”

“Okay, here’s the quick and dirty version. As a baby, Sam was fed demon blood by a demon. I told you about that, before; that was when the fire started that killed our mom. The demon that fed him the blood, Azazel, wanted a leader for his demon army, so he created ‘special children’. Sam was just one, but he was Azazel’s favorite. But another of the ‘special children’, Jake, stabbed Sam in the back and killed him. Sam died in my arms, that time. I- I couldn’t take it. I made a deal with a crossroads demon to bring Sammy back from the dead. Normally, crossroads demons give you what you want, and you have ten years to enjoy it before you’re dragged to Hell. I was given only _one_ year, and then the hellhound came for me. I was tortured by a demon named Alastair for thirty of the forty years I was in Hell; then I became a torturer myself for the last ten years. And then I was rescued from the Pit by an Angel of the Lord, named Castiel.”

“That’s Cas?”

“Yes. Heaven wanted me out of Hell because I was destined to be the ‘true vessel’ of the Archangel Michael. And Sam was destined to be the ‘true vessel’ of another Archangel – Lucifer. And the angels wanted them to use us to fight each other, and cause the Apocalypse. So they sent Cas into Hell to rescue me. Azazel was working with other demons to free Lucifer from the Cage in which God had confined him. They managed it, and we can talk about how at some point, but the important thing is that for an angel to possess a human, they have to have the human’s consent. You have to say ‘yes.’ I _refused_ to say ‘yes’ to Michael. Sam said ‘yes’ to Lucifer, then managed to get control of his own body again, and used that control to lock Lucifer away in the Cage again – _in Sam’s body_. So then Sam had to be rescued as well. Cas rescued Sam’s _body_ , but not his _soul_. So Sam’s body, soulless, walked around for a year before anyone realized, and his soul was still down in the Cage, being tortured. Death rescued Sam’s soul, and put it back in his body, but part of it was walled off, so Sam wouldn’t have to deal with memories of the abuse he’d suffered. But the wall broke, and Sam had hallucinations, and started to lose his sanity. Cas felt guilty, so he took the damage from Sam’s soul into himself, and Cas lost _his_ sanity for a time, instead. He’s okay, now, though. I think that should be enough backstory for now, but if you see something else in the journal that doesn’t make sense, I can explain things further.”

Mia quirked a brow at Dean, but said nothing more about the background information he’d provided. “You say here that Cas never mentioned a problem with _your_ soul, and you wish you could speak with Cas about your memory issues, but you can’t. Why not? What happened to Cas? You said he’s okay now, so why _not_ just talk to him?”

“The reason Sam made me seek help from you, Mia, was that I get angry easily and push people away. One of the people that I pushed away was _Cas_. We had a fight, one of many, I blamed him unfairly for certain events, and he left. And afterward, I got really drunk. The next day, Sam laid down the law – I had to get help for my anger and my drinking.”

“When you say Cas _left_ …what did Cas leave?”

“Sam and I have a pretty big place that we inherited. It’s secluded, quiet, and protected from a lot of supernatural creatures. We call it the Bunker. Cas lives – was living – in the Bunker with us. But after that fight, he…left.”

Mia nodded, and turned the page to Thursday’s journal entry.

“Well, this first paragraph on Thursday is promising, Dean. You say here: ‘A lot’s happened since I wrote my last entry, yesterday. Hard to believe how much, actually. I feel like I’ve had walls up forever, that are now just crumbling to dust at the merest touch. I talked to Claire and admitted that I had messed up with Cas. I told Jody that I love her. I told Donna that she’s one of my favorite people and makes my life brighter by existing. And I told Sam that I don’t give him enough credit, and that I don’t want to shut him out any more.’ Now, I know who Sam is, obviously. Who is Donna?”

“Donna is one of the sheriffs that we work with occasionally as hunters, she does some hunts of her own, and she gets us information that we need sometimes when we have a case up by her; she’s in Minnesota. Jody is another sheriff, she’s in South Dakota. Both of them are great people and good friends, and they’ve sort of become family to me and Sammy. Claire is…complicated. Remember I said that angels need vessels? Most humans can’t see or hear angels in their true form; they have to possess a human, with permission, in order to be able to communicate with us. Cas possessed Claire’s father, Jimmy Novak. Jimmy died; in fact, Lucifer killed Jimmy and Cas, but God brought Cas back, in Jimmy’s body. Jody took Claire in after demons killed her mother, Amelia. Sam and Cas and I got Claire to Jody. Cas felt an obligation to Claire, and she’s always been kind of like a little sister to me and Sam. Claire’s a hunter, too, sometimes.”

“You also mention an Alex here, in a list of people that you apparently forgot love you. Who is Alex?”

“Another one of Jody’s foster daughters. We saved Alex from a nest of vampires. The head of the nest had kept her human, but was using her as bait to lure humans in. She was pretty messed up when we found her. Now she’s a pediatric nurse at the hospital in Sioux Falls.”

You also wrote here more about your relationship with Sam, and your relationship with Cas. You say that you don’t feel good enough for Cas, so you push him away, but you really want for him to stay. You sound conflicted, Dean.”

“Well, as you read, you’ll see that Cas and I have resolved some things between us. But yeah, I was conflicted about my feelings for Cas for a really long time.”

“You write here that Alastair gave you false memories of your father’s abuse of you in order to condition you to accept a deal.”

“Yeah. The deal was that I could get down off the rack, and end my own torture, if I agreed to torture others. There were a great many seals on the Cage, and sixty-six of them had to be broken to let him out. They weren’t literal seals, they were events that had to happen. Some had to happen in a specific order, and the first was that a righteous man had to spill blood in Hell. I broke the First Seal. I was the righteous man.”

Mia nodded. “You write here that you intended to show this entry to Sam, and you ask him not to argue with you about it. Did he read it?”

“He did.”

“Did he argue?”

“Of course not. He just flatly told me that I was wrong about my responsibility for having made the deal and wrong about the reasons why Cas left, then went on to tell me that I’ve never failed him, and I’m his hero.” Dean threw up his hands.

Mia smirked a little, but didn’t comment; she simply turned the page to the next entry. “Well, this Friday morning entry is a little depressing, Dean. It’s good that you’re making a point not to blame Cas for your memory issues, but then you went on to attack yourself pretty mercilessly, here. You write that you’ve ‘fucked things up’ between the two of you, that you’re ‘pathetic’, that Cas is ‘better off’ without you, and you should tell him to go find someone who’ll accept him for who he is, that you don’t believe that you deserve to be saved, loved, to have Cas as your best friend, in your life, or as part of your family, and that although Cas deserves to be happy, you’ve never tried to make him happy, because you believe you’ll fail.

"My goodness, Dean, did you take self-deprecation as a course in college?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know, that entry was a little over the top.

“Y’think?”

“But it felt true when I was writing it. I was in a bad place at the time.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of 3 of Dean's 3rd therapy session. I just wrote and wrote and wrote. ;)
> 
> Please comment. Please please please, let me get what I want.... ;)


	52. Third Therapy Session, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's third session with Mia continues.

“So, continuing on Friday afternoon…. You mention here that when you said ‘no’ to Michael, someone named Adam said ‘yes’ instead?”

“Yeah. Adam Milligan. Turned out that Sam and I had a half-brother we knew nothing about. Dad never told us, we found out after he’d died. I was supposed to be Michael’s true vessel; it was a genetic thing, Winchester genes from Dad, Campbell genes from Mom. Apparently, when I made it clear that I would say ‘no,’ the angels decided that Adam’s Winchester genes from Dad would be good enough, and Michael could just use him, and Adam said ‘yes’. When Sam got control, in order to lock Lucifer away, he had to fall into the Cage through a hole in the ground; Michael tried to stop him from falling, but instead fell with Sam.”

“And then you mention Lisa and Ben; you say you were ‘playing house’ with them while Sam was soulless and hunting without you, that you pretended to have a nice little suburban family life, but it was all just smoke and mirrors, until Sam came to you, you deserted them, and had Cas erase you from their memories.”

“Yeah. Lisa was an old girlfriend. Ben was her son. I thought he might have been mine, but she denied it. After Sam fell into the Cage, Cas rescued his body almost immediately, but no one told me. And Sam had asked me to quit hunting, to go and be with Lisa and Ben. So I tried. But I was always looking for danger, watching around corners. And I acted like a prison guard, and I made them miserable. And then Sam came and found me, and I went right back to hunting, just up and deserted them. But I kept coming back, and every time I did, it just made them unhappy. Lisa ended up in the hospital because of a demon attack, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I knew they’d never be safe if I was in their lives. So Cas removed me from their memories, and I told them that they had been in a car crash, and I, the guy who hit them, just wanted to apologize. And then I walked away, and never saw them again.”

“You say here that you hurt Cas on purpose, because if you push him away, ‘at least when he leaves, it’s not because he wants to go, it’s because you made him go.’ Are you big on self-fulfilling prophecies, Winchester?”

“Little bit, yeah.” Dean looked sheepish.

“How’s that working for you?”

“Not real well. But I told you, Cas and I resolved some things. Keep reading.” Dean smiled a little, private smile.

“ _That’s_ a nice smile, Dean.”

Mia turned the page. “Of course, you’ll _always_ worry for Sam, Dean. That’s part of being a parent, no matter how old your child gets. And Sam _is_ your child, Dean, in a very real sense, though, of course, not biologically.”

Dean nodded. “I know. I had to be big brother, mom, and, usually, dad to Sam. The one thing that makes me proud of myself is the fact that he turned out so good, Mia.”

She smiled.

“You write here that you hurt Claire when she offered a gift. Tell me about that, Dean.”

“Claire is fierce when it comes to family. After her dad, Jimmy, Cas’ vessel, died, she filed a life insurance claim. But of course, they never found Jimmy’s body, because Cas is using it. So, he was considered ‘missing, presumed dead.’ The insurer refused to pay the claim. But after seven years, his status changed to ‘declared legally dead’ and they had to pay out. And there was a clause or something in the policy that Sam found, when he helped her file the claim, that if they delayed payment but eventually had to pay, there was a penalty. So Claire recently got a check for just over eight million dollars, and decided she wanted to share. She gave Jody one million, she wants to give Sam one million, and to me, Cas, Alex, and Donna, she wants to give seven hundred and fifty thousand each. And I told her I didn’t want her money. And I meant because I think she should have it for herself, not …”

“Not what, Dean?”

“I told her that I didn’t deserve the money. She got mad. She pointed out that I drove her to Jody’s in the middle of the night; that I taught her how to shoot and gave her her first gun and lore book, but tried to talk her out of hunting; that I’d convinced her to give Jody a chance; that I’d killed a vampire trying to kill her and cured her of being a werewolf; that without me, she’d be on the streets of dead, and she owed me her life and her family, and then she said that the money was peanuts in comparison, and that if I was saying that giving her a family and her life wasn’t worth anything then I should fuck myself very much. She knocked me over; I was on the phone with her, and when she ended the call, I was on my knees on the ground. She was vicious. She was mean. And I deserved it.”

“Did you?”

“Um.... No. I _didn’t_ mean to discount her feelings. I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I was saying no to what I felt was an overly generous offer because I thought she should keep her money for herself because she deserves to have good things happen to her. Cas told her a little bit of what I’ve been through, and why I generally don’t like to take things from people, and after that, she and I talked, and we made up.”

“You say here that you can’t be fixed. Do you _really_ believe that?”

“Yes, and then, no. I think I _can_ get better, but the change has to come from _me_ , I have to _want_ it, and I have to _work for it_. No one else can do the work for me, and no one else can make me want it. So, no, I _can’t_ be fixed, by Cas, or anyone else, not even you. But you can help me and give me the tools to work on making _myself_ better.”

“Nicely said, Dean. You write here that explaining yourself to others is going to hurt, and you don’t want to hurt, but you think maybe you _have to_ , in order to heal. Why, Dean? Why does healing _have to_ be painful?”

“It’s like when a bone gets broken, and doesn’t get set properly; it heals, but it heals badly, and it has to be rebroken to be set correctly. I’ve been through a lot of bad experiences; I haven’t healed from all of them, and some of them set badly, and my soul needs to be re-set to heal, and the re-setting is going to hurt.”

“Your idea of writing letters to people is a good one, Dean.”

“I want to do that. I’d like for you to read them, Mia. I already wrote to Sam and to Cas, but they haven’t seen the letters yet. But I asked them, and if you say it’s okay to show them, they said they’d read them.”

“All right. Let me take a minute and go through them, here.” Mia read the letter he’d written to Sam.

“Dean, this letter to Sam is… _beautiful_. You _absolutely_ should give it to him. You’re a little down on yourself in it, but the majority of it is so positive and uplifting. I don’t think it will hurt Sam to read any of this, and I think he’d be happy to know that you’re so proud of him, and that you love him.”

Dean looked bashful at the praise. “Thanks,” he said, quietly.

Mia read the letter to Cas. “Oh, Dean.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with a tissue.

“Bad?”

“No, sweetheart. You said that you and Cas talked, and resolved some things between you. Is this letter still _relevant_?”

“Partly. Some of the things I said in the letter, I said to him in person, but not all or even most of it. And I think it’s all stuff that he needs to hear. But even with things between us being better, I don’t know that I’d have the courage to _say_ the rest of it. Which is why I wrote the letters in the first place. Should I rewrite it?”

“Well, that’s up to you. You wrote here that you ‘certainly don’t have any expectation’ that Cas will forgive you, or go back to considering you his friend. You say that you’ve ruined that. If you’ve _resolved_ things, then that part isn’t true, is it?”

“Maybe not.”

“That would be the only part that I think you might want to change. And I’m not _telling_ you to change it, just to _consider_ it. Other than that, yes, I think you should give this to Cas. But I think you also need to say the words.”

“I did already. So did he. Keep reading.” Dean grinned at her.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2.   
> Part 3 coming shortly. :)
> 
> COMMENTS! :)


	53. Third Therapy Session, Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's third therapy session with Mia, conclusion.

“Oh, okay.” Mia turned the page, and saw that Dean had skipped to Monday evening, saying he’d been too busy to write, to process, or to think since the prior entry on Saturday morning.

“Oh, dear. Don’t let Cas keep Sam’s REM cycle off for too long. He _needs_ that.”

“Yeah, we know. We actually had a case where someone hadn’t been able to dream for decades, and it had made the poor guy kinda crazy.”

“You write here about your drinking being of concern to you, and to your family. How much do you drink, Dean?”

“The night Cas left, I drank nearly five bottles of whisky. Then I had none at all for about three weeks, until Saturday night, when I had nine bottles of beer.”

“Is binge-drinking once in a while what you usually do, Dean?”

“No. Until Cas left, my normal was to drink almost every day. Varying amounts, and not while working a case. But once I was off-duty? Yeah, I’d be at the bar knockin’ ‘em back. And then I’d be picking up someone for sex, most likely.”

“You write here that you were a demon?”

“Long story, but yes. Sam cured me of it. I’m not demonic now. I made Cas check to be sure.”

Mia got to the part of the entry where Dean wrote about Cas being in love with him, and admitted to being in love with Cas.

“Wow, Dean, when you resolve things with someone, you don’t screw around, do you? You jumped straight to being in love?”

“I told you earlier that I’ve been conflicted about my feelings for Cas for a long time. That’s why. I’ve been in love with Cas for ages, but I didn’t feel that I deserved him, didn’t think he’d ever feel the same way. But he admitted it first. And once he’d said it to me, well, that ended the conflict. Because deserve it or not, Cas’ love is something I’ve always wanted.”

“Good for you, Dean. I think that may be the healthiest thing you’ve said to me yet.”

Mia continued to read. “I like your resolutions, Dean…and I think you and Cas are right, that he should _not_ come straight home. I think it’s okay to spend time with Cas now and then, though.”

Dean grinned. “We had movie night last night.”

“See, Dean, you don’t need me at all.” Mia winked at him.

“Next week, same time?”

“You bet, Dean.”

“Homework?”

“Well, it seems journaling is really working for you, Dean. I’d say keep doing it.

"The letters to your friends and family are a good idea. Give Sam his letter. Think about whether you want to change that part of the letter to Cas that we talked about, and then give him a version of his letter. And then write to the others, I’d say maybe Claire should be next on the list? And I’ll read them next week, and we can talk about them.

"And it’s okay to write letters to people from the past, too. Your father? Bobby? Whoever. It might help to put your feelings down on paper.

"It doesn’t need to all get done _this week_ , Dean. Write what you feel like writing, as much or as little as you feel helps.”

Dean nodded. “It really does help me to put it on paper.”

“Good. Then just keep doing it, and I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Dean walked out to the car, whistling cheerily.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's part 3. Sorry, this one's a little short, but I did just give you 3 updates in under 15 minutes!
> 
> YOU MUST COMMENT! NOW! Please???? :)


	54. Coffee With Sam and Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gives Sam his letter.

Dean pulled Baby into the Bunker’s garage and parked her. He grabbed his notebook, got out, and headed for the kitchen. He put on a pot of coffee, and got a mug out of the cupboard and the flavored creamer out of the refrigerator. He turned just as Sam shuffled in.

“Coffee, Sam?”

“Absolutely.” Sam smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He sat at the table and leaned back in the chair.

Dean got out another mug. He leaned against the counter to wait for the coffeemaker to brew.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still tired, but better.”

“Hungry?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Pizza?”

“ _Always_.”

Dean chuckled and pulled out his cell phone. He had the only place that delivered to the Bunker on speed dial. “Garlic bread?”

“The cheesy kind, yeah.”

Dean nodded. “Hey, Antonio, it’s Dean Winchester. I need two large, one with pepp… Yeah, why do I bother? You know what we like…. Yeah, and the cheesy garlic bread. Make that two…. Yeah? Okay, I’ll take one of those, too… Hang on…. Sam, you want a salad?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he wants one, Antonio… About how long?… Okay, great. Thanks, man.” Dean ended the call.

“Antonio’s now has apple turnovers.” He grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes. “How long did he say it’d be?”

“About 45 minutes.”

“Okay.”

Dean poured the coffee, and brought the mugs and the bottle of creamer over to the table. “Here.”

“Thanks, man.” Sam doctored his coffee, and sipped. He set down the mug and closed his eyes. “Good to be home.”

“Yeah. Long week.”

“Yeah. How’d your session go?”

“Good. Speaking of which, Mia said I should go ahead and give you your letter, so… hang on, let me find it… here. Afraid you’ll have to open your eyes to read it, Sammy.”

Sam opened his eyes. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. Where do I start reading?”

Dean pointed to the page. “Right there. Where it says ‘Dear Sam’. Duh.” He grinned.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch. Read your letter.” Dean sat down and sipped at his own coffee.

Sam started to read. He didn’t get very far. He got up, came around the table, pulled Dean up, and hugged him, tight. “You have a lot more to be proud of than just _me_ , Dean.”

Dean hugged him back. “ _Read_.”

Sam shuffled back around to his seat, sat, and started reading again. He got to the end, and set the notebook on the table. He paused a moment to gather his thoughts, then said, “You never said the wrong words, Dean. Yeah, I am a bit broken, but my being broken _isn’t on you_. You’ve always had my back, and I’ve always known you were on my side. Even when the shit with Ruby and the demon blood went down; you were sometimes harsh, but I knew it was only because you cared. And for the record, Dean, I love you, too. And yes, you absolutely _do_ deserve it.”

Dean flushed. “Thanks, Sammy,” he said, quietly.

“Always.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Did you want to die then, during the Trials?”

Sam thought a minute. He knew what he wanted to say, but knew he needed to be careful about how he said it.

“No. I didn’t _want_ to die, exactly. But, I did think that if, by my dying, I could save millions of others, then it was _worth it_ to die.

“And I didn’t think that you needed me anymore. You had Cas, and you had Benny, and, of the two of us, you’ve always been the strongest, Dean, so if I wasn’t there, I figured you’d just be able to go on without me. So, I didn’t think… didn’t realize, I guess, how much it would affect you.

“But then you were _there_ , begging me to stop, to think, not to finish, saying you needed me, and you wouldn’t put anyone else ahead of me, and then, I knew I didn’t want to finish, but I didn’t know how to stop.”

Dean nodded.

Sam continued, “But it wasn’t at all because you somehow made me think that I needed to sacrifice myself because of Azazel and Ruby and Lillith and Lucifer, and the whole demon blood-psychic-whatever. I wasn’t thinking along the lines of, ‘well, Dean doesn’t like that I have visions, and I’m contaminated, so I should just go kill myself now.’

“It was more, ‘if I do this, the Gates of Hell will close forever, and millions will be saved, so if I die, what does _that_ matter in the overall scheme of things?’ And then you came, and stopped me, and told me why it mattered. Because it mattered _to you_ whether I lived or died. And that was enough to pull me back. _You were enough_. You always have been.”

Dean sniffled a little, and the look on his face told Sam that he was uncomfortable. Sam reached across the table and grabbed Dean’s hand.

“Hey. Dean. _Stop_. Look at me.”

Dean looked up, unwillingly.

“Dean, you’re my _brother_. I love you, too. There is _nothing_ that I would not do for you, _nothing_ that I would not give for you. _You are the best man I know_. And if I have to tell you that every day to make you believe in yourself, and your own value, then that’s what I’ll do. And I’m glad to be able to do it, glad you’re still here, glad I’m still here. Okay?”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam nodded. “So, did Mia give you new homework?”

“She said journaling seemed to be working, so I should keep doing it, and that the letters were a good idea, and I should keep writing them. I think I’m going to rewrite the letter that I wrote to Cas, though. She pointed out that it might not be as relevant now as it was when I first wrote it.”

“Why’s that?”

Dean looked vaguely uncomfortable again. “Um… Well…. Because when I wrote it, I thought that I had totally screwed up on ever having a chance with Cas, but now….”

“Wait. A chance to… _what_ , with Cas?”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean, are you _in love_ with Cas?”

“Um… yeah. And he’s in love with me. And we finally admitted it to each other.” Dean’s face was quickly turning a deep bright red.

Sam grinned. “ _About time_ , man.”

“Wait… _What?_ ” Dean gaped at Sam.

“Ya heard me. The two of you have been ga-ga for each other for the last eleven years, for fuck’s sake.”

“You… you **_knew_**?”

“Duh. You weren’t exactly subtle, Dean. Either one of you.”

“And you’re _okay_ with it?”

“With what?” Sam sipped his coffee. “Dean, love is love is love. You can’t help who you fall in love with. And it’s _Cas_. Cas is pretty great, man.”

“Well, yeah, he is, obviously. But I’m….”

“You’re pretty great, too, Dean. _Seriously_. You are. Cas fell for you for a reason, Dean. Let yourself believe it.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the joys of having someone around who pays attention, huh? ;)
> 
> Comments? :)


	55. The Dark Days Are Over...Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes to Cas, and in his journal. Cas checks on Sam.

After dinner, Dean made sure that Sam got back to bed and to sleep okay, then watched a couple of episodes of _Dr. Sexy_ on Netflix on the large-screen TV he’d installed in the DeanCave. He thought about going to sleep himself, but realized he wasn’t tired, and what he _really_ wanted to do was write.

So, he went back to his room, got his notebook and his pen, and sat at his desk.

This time, the blank whiteness of the page hardly bothered him at all.

***

_Dear Cas,_

_I spoke with Mia (my therapist) today and had her read the letter that I wrote to you last week. She suggested that it might not be quite so relevant, since you and I had resolved things and admitted we have feelings for each other, and that I might want to consider rewriting it. That’s tempting, but I want you to see what I wrote **then** , as I wrote it. But I realized that I still have more to say, so I’m writing this as kind of an addendum, so to speak._

_The reason why I found it so hard for so long to tell you how I felt about you was that I didn’t know for sure how you felt about me, because you never said it until just the other night. And that made it easy for my own insecurities to gang up on me, to tell me that you – an Angel of the Lord – would never want me, never be in love with me. I wanted – sometimes **desperately** – to tell you how I felt, but I was too afraid of being rejected by you._

_Sometimes I could almost believe that you wanted me as much as I wanted you – you’d get a certain look in your eyes, and I’d have hope – but I could never quite make myself believe that it could even be **possible** , that I could ever be good enough for you, that you could or would or might ever be in love with me – **until you said the words**._

_I know that you have said “I love you” before, and I’ve told you many times that you’re family, and family loves each other. But that isn’t the same thing as being **in love**. Having it out in the open, at last, between us makes everything at once more difficult, and so damned easy, and I am so afraid of fucking it all up, and oh, Cas, I do not want to fuck up **us**. Not again. It took us eleven years to say the words the first time. I want to be able to say them to you forever._

_For the record, I know that I still have to make amends to you, that saying “I’m sorry” and “I’m in love with you, too,” is not, and never will be, enough to make up for the many times and ways I’ve hurt you. But I have to say that I’m so happy that you did finally tell me that you’re in love with me, that I didn’t completely ruin everything, that you are still my best friend, and that there’s a chance that you will choose to return home._

_It’s not your fault that I’m insecure. And I’m not blaming you for not saying anything before – I’ve come to understand that you have your own insecurities, and hell, I never said it before, either. I’m just explaining things from my perspective, because I want you to understand me. I know that you already understand much of me, better than probably anyone but Sam. You know how I’ll react to most things, because you watch, and you observe, and you take care to remember the details. Just so you know, I love that about you._

_But I want you to understand **everything** about me, as far as that’s possible, and I haven’t made that easy, because I don’t open up enough. That’s not on you, that’s on me, but I need to do better, for both of us, at communicating with you. I may **never** be able to say some things out loud, Cas. When it comes to expressing my feelings, I truly am a coward. I’m sorry for that, but I don’t know if I can change it. I’ll try, but I may have to keep writing; I hope you’ll keep reading._

_You were right when you told me that I have to want to change, and that you can’t make me want it. You’re right – the change does have to come **from me**. I need you to know that I **do** want to change, and it’s not that I don’t want your help, but you can’t make me want it, I have to want it for myself. And I’m afraid I’ll fuck that up, too, and that fucking that up will fuck up us. I wish I could say that I’ll never hurt you again, but I won’t make promises to you that I don’t know I can keep. I **can** promise that I will try to be better. Because whether I “deserve” it or not, **Cas, your love is a gift** , and I will not throw it back at you._

_So, I hereby resolve:_

  * _to try to be better about accepting help, particularly from you._
  * _to try to be better about admitting when I need help, particularly from you._
  * _to try to be better about letting you know that I need you, not just for your help, but in general._
  * _to try to be better about telling you that I love you, and how much I love you._



_No, wait, that last one’s not a “try”. I resolve to **be** better. Because I **have** to be better about that. I **have** to tell you more often. Preferably daily. In many, varied, interesting and exciting ways._

_So, here’s today’s:_

**_Castiel, Angel of the Lord, guardian, best friend, Cas – I love you. I am in love with you. I have been for a very long time. I think that you are amazing and wonderful, and knowing that you love me back makes me feel like I could fly._ **

_Thank you, Cas._

_Always,_

_Dean_

***

**_Tuesday, after session_ **

_I spoke with Sam when I got home and gave him his letter. He got to the end of the first paragraph and got up to hug me. Once he’d read the whole thing, he said that yes, he is a little broken, but it’s not because of me. I asked him if he’d wanted to die, during the Trials, because that’s always bothered me. He said no, he hadn’t wanted to die, but that if, by dying, he could have saved millions of people, then he thought it would have been worth it to die. And it wasn’t because I made him feel like he had to be some kind of a ritual sacrifice._

_And then I mentioned that I might rewrite the letter to Cas, because it wasn’t as relevant as when I’d written it, and Sam guessed that I’m in love with Cas. So, I admitted it, and said that Cas had admitted that he was in love with me, too, and all Sam had to say was that it was “about time.” I asked if he was okay with it, and he said that “love is love is love. You can’t help who you fall in love with. And it’s **Cas**. Cas is pretty great.” And then he told me that **I’m** pretty great, too, and that Cas fell for me for a reason, and I should let myself believe it. **So, today, I choose to do just that**._

_I am in love with Cas. Cas is in love with me. I am going to take that at face value, and **just be fucking happy, for once in my life!**_

***

He capped his pen and closed the notebook. He got ready for bed – brushed his teeth, got into his pjs, the whole bit – and then, as he started to slide into bed, he had a thought.

_Oh, why not?_

He knelt next to the bed.

_“Hey, Cas, it’s me. Don’t worry, there’s no emergency, everything is fine. I just wanted to tell you that today was a pretty good day. Sammy’s still tired, but feeling better; I had a good session with my therapist; and I wrote you a letter. You left while I was sleeping, so I didn’t have a chance to tell you thanks for fixing my general aches and pains, and for giving me restful sleep – I assume that was your doing – and to thank you for watching the movie with me._

_“And finally, I wanted to say, just because I can – I love you, and I hope that you had a good day, too. Good night, Cas.”_

He got back up from the floor, and slipped under the covers, and was out like a light – so he missed the quiet voice from the hallway, saying, “Good night, Dean. I love you, too.”

Cas went on down the hall to do what he’d come to the Bunker for – to check on Sam. He was glad to see that the lines on Sam’s face and the dark circles beneath his eyes were much less pronounced than they had been. He sat in a chair next to the bed, and let Sam have a monitored REM cycle, knowing that dreams are necessary to the brain, but not wanting an unmonitored dream to become a nightmare. He kept dream-Sam well away from Lucifer, Michael, and the Cage, and steered the dream into happy memories, instead. And once the REM cycle ended, he turned them off again, noticing the improvement in Sam’s color.

He smiled fondly at Sam, then vanished from the Bunker, to return to the cabin and go back to his research.

He could not accept Lucifer’s story at face value, but he wasn’t sure how to verify the claims the Archangel had made.

Sam wouldn’t be entirely safe until the situation was resolved, but he couldn’t rush this. If he made a mistake here, his tenuous relationship with Dean really would be over.

 _Dean will never forgive me if I don’t do this right_.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue vaguely ominous music.... No one's out of the woods yet, guys. Don't get too comfy. ;)
> 
> Comments??? :)


	56. Help Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam drafts a help wanted ad. The boys check the mail.

By morning, Sam actually felt _almost_ human again. When he found fresh coffee in the kitchen, and a note from Dean that said he’d gone to the grocery store but would be back shortly (with actual food!), he smiled, and got out a mug. Taking his coffee with him, he went back to his bedroom to collect his laptop, and went to the War Room to do some work.

He wasn’t looking for a new case, not yet. He was still feeling a little _fragile_ , if not as exhausted, and he thought Dean could use a break as well, after the emotional roller coaster of the past week. But, without doing too much too soon, he had some things he wanted to look up, and he wanted to add what they’d learned about _shtriga_ to the lore database that he’d started.

He’d begun the database with the information John had collected in his journal, and added things as they came across them in their own hunts over the years. Now that they had the Bunker’s lore library, he was slowly putting information from that into the database, as well. With Bobby’s lore collection now theirs, and given that they actually now had money, what with the gifts from Bobby and Claire, he thought he might even hire an assistant to work on it with him. He was considering ways to phrase a help wanted ad for hiring such a person without sounding insane, when Dean returned, laden with heavy-looking plastic bags.

“No, Sam, don’t get up, I’ve got it,” Dean said, as he passed by on his way to the kitchen. Sam couldn’t quite tell if Dean had meant that sarcastically.

“Is there more in the car? Do you need me to move the car to the garage?” They always parked out in front when dealing with groceries, as the front door was so much closer to the kitchen than coming up from the garage.

“No, and no. I meant it, I’ve got it. You keep resting,” Dean called back from the kitchen.

“Um, okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure! Eggs, pancakes, or both?”

“Pancakes!”

“I’m making both.”

“Then why’d you _ask_ , Jerk?”

“Because I wanted to know what to make _more of_ , Bitch. Did you find the coffee?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Need more?”

“Not yet. And I can get up and get it myself, when I do. I’m not an _invalid_ , Dean.” Dean wisely kept silent for a while after that.

Sam went back to trying to draft a help wanted ad.

**_“Wanted: research assistant. Duties include: research into arcane and mythic lore, utilizing ancient texts, scrolls, and spellbooks; updating database; preparation of reports; and handling of research requests and other needs from clients over the phone. Required qualifications: minimum typing speed of 60 wpm; filing; good telephone manner; good organizational skills; ability and willingness to suspend disbelief. Working knowledge of basic first aid helpful. Apply in person at warded bunker south of old hydroelectric dam off Hwy. 35, Lebanon, KS.”_ **

Sam snorted a laugh.

_Well, it’s accurate, at least, but no one will apply for that. Let’s try this again._

**_“Wanted: research/clerical assistant to perform: research, including drafting of reports; data entry/typing; handling of telephone calls; and other basic clerical tasks. Qualifications required: minimum typing speed of 60 wpm; filing; good telephone manner; good organizational skills. For appointment to apply in person, call: 785-555-5252 and ask for Sam.”_ **

_That might not scare them off. Sounds a little more reasonable, at least._

“Breakfast is ready.”

“Coming.” Sam picked up his laptop and his mug and headed for the kitchen. He set the laptop down close to his plate, got a refill on his coffee, doctored it, sat down, and started to eat absently, eyes mostly on the computer screen.

“So, what are you working on? You’re not looking for another case yet, right?” Dean prodded.

“Um, no. I’m, ah…considering posting a help wanted ad for a research assistant.”

“A _who-what_ , now?”

“I told you a while ago that I’ve been working on digitizing the lore in the library and dad’s journal. With Bobby’s collection, there’s a lot more work to do, and with the inheritance from him, and the gift from Claire, I was thinking we could afford to hire someone to help me do that work. If we had to be gone on a case, they could take the calls that come in from other hunters wanting research done, or needing a reference check. So, I’m trying to put together a want ad that explains what I need from such a person, without sounding so insane that no one will apply for the job.”

Dean was highly entertained by the notion of a help wanted ad for such a position that _wouldn’t_ sound insane. “Okay, I’ll bite; what do you have so far?”

Sam read him the first draft. Dean burst out laughing, and Sam grinned at him. “Yeah, I know. I laughed at that, myself.”

“What else ya got? You wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t think you had _something_ you could actually post.”

Sam read him the second draft. Dean bit his lip, considering it. “It doesn’t sound _insane_. You might actually get some calls with that one. You might want to consider listing the rate of pay you’re thinking.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I should, but I hadn’t really gotten that far. Honestly, I have no idea what a job like this _ought_ to pay.”

“Maybe contact a temp agency, start that way. If the temp doesn’t work out, you can have the agency replace them a lot more easily than it would be to hire someone, have to fire them, then start all over. Plus, the agency would set the rate and handle payroll, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that. We’re not exactly material for the IRS’s employer database.” Dean stabbed a piece of egg with his fork.

“That might actually work.”

“Oh, I got the mail on the way back; this one’s addressed to you, but as ‘Sam Wesson.’ I have one addressed to ‘Dean Smith.’ They’re from the probate clerk in Sioux Falls.”

Sam tore open the envelope. “Receipt for the paperwork Jody filed. Deed for the Salvage Yard, transferred to us; deed for the house, also transferred; and a note saying the registrations for non-junked vehicles – which was most of the inventory – have been sent to the South Dakota DMV for processing, and we should be receiving them in seven to ten business days. At which point, if we wanted to, we could start selling inventory.”

Dean blinked. “That reminds me, I gotta call and get the utilities turned back on for the Yard and the house. The spotlights need to be on at night, even if we’re not there, and if we go up to Sioux Falls to work on stuff, and want a hot shower, or water to clean the house, or light to see by, we’ll need electricity and gas.”

“Do you want to hire someone to work at the Yard, at least part-time, to be there when we can’t be?” Sam asked.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it, maybe talk to Jody. Also, you and I each have an envelope from Claire.”

They each opened their respective envelopes. Sam found only a cashier’s check made payable to ‘Sam Wesson’ which was, as promised, for $1,000,000. Dean found a cashier’s check made payable to ‘Dean Smith,’ which was, as promised, for $750,000. On the back of the check, Dean found a post-it note, on which Claire had written: “Please, D? I really want you to have it. – C.”

Dean smiled softly.

“I don’t think we can turn it down, Dean.” Sam took out his wallet, and slid the check inside.

“Yeah, I know. I hurt her twice this past week, I’m not doing it again.” Dean sighed. “C’mon, let’s go to the bank.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La la la... Ah, happy domesticity. ;)
> 
> (Ominous music still playing quietly in background - you'll notice that Cas makes no appearance in this chapter....)
> 
> Comments? ;)


	57. Ripping Off the Band-Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas takes a little research trip. Dean journals, and writes a letter to Claire.

Cas ended his most recent non-helpful phone call with a distinct irritated click and shut off his cell phone.

_Dammit._

He was no closer to finding answers than he had been immediately after speaking with Lucifer in Sam’s brain, and he was running out of contacts. There were few angels left on Earth, even fewer who would still take his calls – and none of those that he’d spoken with knew anything about Lucifer having been given a choice of where to go when he died.

_I’m going to have to go upstairs. Unless…._

_I wonder if she’s still there? I wonder if she’ll talk to me, if she’d tell me anything useful…._

Cas sighed.

_Not much choice. I just really hope she doesn’t brand me again._

He vanished, reappearing at the corner of N. Virginia St and E. Fourth St… in downtown Reno, outside the Eldorado Resort Casino, home to the world’s largest Keno game….

And the most likely place for him to find the sister of God.

***

Dean sat down at his desk to write his Wednesday afternoon journal entry, and a letter to Claire.

_I owe her at least a thank-you note; might as well get everything out all at once._

He opened his notebook to a blank page, and uncapped his pen…and stared at the blank white sheet. Unlike yesterday, he was having a hard time finding the motivation.

He ran a hand over his face, and huffed out a breath.

_This was never going to be easy._

And then he began to write.

*******

**_Wednesday afternoon_ **

_I need to write to Claire. I’m finding it hard to think of what to say to her, so I’m avoiding it for the moment._

_Sam wants to hire a research assistant (and he drafted the most ridiculous help wanted ad; his first draft had me laughing so hard my sides still ache a bit). I’m thinking about hiring someone to help out at the Salvage Yard when we’re not there – which will be most of the time. Thanks to the gifts from Claire (the checks arrived in today’s mail), we can afford it, but I don’t want to tap those funds. Probably gonna have to.  
_

_The inheritance from Bobby is technically worth more, even at the low appraisal value, but it’s not liquid, it’s tied up in assets, like the Yard’s inventory. So I’d probably have to tap Claire’s gift to restore some of the inventory, anyway, in order to get anything approaching the vehicles’ actual value. It’s her gift of cash that makes it possible to use Bobby’s legacy at all, really.  
_

_I need to tell her that. I need to thank her. I need to admit that I need her help, and that I am going to take it._

_But first, I need to apologize to her._

**_Again._ **

_Fuck._

_I know **exactly** what I need to say to Claire, I just don’t want to have to say it. _

_I’m so ashamed of the way I acted, the things I said, the hurt I caused her. And I know she’s already forgiven me, and moved on._

**_So, why can’t I forgive myself?_ **

_All right, all right. I know what I have to do. I better just do it. Rip off the band aid. Make the hurt quick, and get it over with. It’ll sting, but it’ll feel better after, right?_

***

_Dear Claire,_

_I remember when we first met, the night the demons attacked your family. You were, what, ten, then? Long, straight, blonde hair, serious blue eyes, beautiful, and so **fierce** , even then. I don’t know how much you remember of that fight; Cas possessed you for part of it._

_I remember when I saved you from the loan shark, and you **hated** me for it._

_I remember when we found you in the hospital in Tulsa, and I took you to play miniature golf. I gave you a gun, and we found your mom, but she died to save you; we took to Jody’s after that._

_I’ve watched you grow up. I never wanted a hunter’s life for you. I tried to talk you out of it. But realizing that I couldn’t, I tried to supply you with weapons, skill, and knowledge as best I could._

_Now, you are a hunter in your own right. Smart, capable, still fierce. All grown up. Loyal, caring, and giving. And still beautiful._

**_I am so proud of you._ **

_And I am so ashamed of myself._

_**Thank you for your gift, Claire.** That’s all I should have said when you first brought it up – thank you. I didn’t intend to hurt you, didn’t intend to discount your feelings, but I did, and I am still so sorry, sweetheart._

_I know that Cas spoke with you about my past. I don’t know exactly what he told you. I assume you likely have questions, and if you want to ask, I’ll try to explain._

_It’s hard for me to express my feelings, and it’s hard for me to explain my past, because I did so many things of which I am not proud, and so much of it, to any **normal** person, just simply sounds **unreal**. There are only a very few people who know about most of it; only Sam and Cas know anything close to **all** of it. But the point is that, when it comes right down to it, I don’t feel that I deserve to have nice things, to have good things happen to me, to have good people be in my life, because of my past. I’m already so in awe of the fact that you are in my life at all, that you wanting to give me such a generous gift – or any gift at all – pushes me into that discomfort zone, and my reaction is to pull back, decline, say no._

_It’s a conditioned response, and another part of it is **fear**. “They’ll give me something nice, but then something bad will follow,” is a lesson that I’ve sadly learned all too well. It’s instinctual, now. **Intellectually, I know you don’t want to hurt me, Claire-Bear.** But when offered something nice, my instincts tell me to shrink back and say no. I don’t **like** that instinct, but it’s ingrained deep, and I have to fight it. When I have an expectation of a gift, like at Christmas or a birthday, I can steel myself up ahead of time, and push that instinct down enough to enjoy a gift. But when it comes as a total surprise, as your announcement did, I’m defenseless against it – the instinct takes over, and I react._

_I’m not trying to defend my actions, just to explain them. **I was wrong to hurt you, and I’m sorry it happened.** I just want you to understand **why** it happened. Because you **matter** to me, Claire._

_And **because** you matter to me, I should have taken better care than to drink around you. I won’t do it again. I’m trying to quit drinking altogether. I may relapse again. **But if I do, it won’t be around you**. I’m so glad that you’re on Cas’ radar, and that he sensed your upset and came to see what was wrong. Once he had me cleared of alcohol, I was truly disgusted by my behavior with you._

_And you were right – I’ve said and done a lot worse with the “random chicks” I’ve picked up while drunk over the years. And that shames me, too. It’s not the kind of man I want to be._

_So, I’m going to do the work I need to do to change, to be the man I want to be. Because I want and need to be that better man, **for me**. And also because I want and need to be that better man f **or the people who care about me – my family, including you.** You’re my little sis, Claire-Bear, and I’m so sorry if I made you feel unsafe, or that you couldn’t trust me. I want to win back that trust._

_I don’t know if Jody mentioned it, but it turns out that Bobby left everything to me and Sam when he died. So, I will be in Sioux Falls more, working in the Salvage Yard, restoring some of the vehicles in inventory. Your gift will help us to use his gift to us, so thank you again for making that possible._

_I love you, Claire._

_Always,_

_Dean_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, that ominous music, I think...I think it got a little louder, there, for a second.... ;)
> 
> So, did Dean say what he needed to in his letter to Claire?   
> If Claire has, in fact, forgiven and moved on, should Mia tell him not to send the letter?   
> Would it be selfish to drag everything from her past back up for her, just because Dean's wallowing in his shame a bit today? 
> 
> COMMENTS ARE LIFE, PEOPLE! ;) I know you know that. :) Love you guys!


	58. Teasing the Trigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets assistance. Dean leaves Cas a voice mail. Sam teases Dean, then regrets it.

Cas strode through the casino’s lobby, looking for her. Not seeing her, he stopped at the desk.

A perky blonde college girl and an older, severe-looking brunette in a suit with a long jacket over a short skirt, were discussing a customer’s billing issue a few feet behind the desk. The older woman noticed him, handed the offending document to the perky blonde, and came over to the desk.

“May I help you, sir?” she asked.

Cas decided now wasn’t the time to be subtle, and pulled out the fake FBI badge Sam had made for him.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Agent Timberlake. I’m looking for a woman. She’s not in any trouble at all, but the Bureau believes she has useful information, and we need to speak with her rather urgently. Her first name is Amara; we’re not certain what her real last name is, nor do we know what name she’s going by currently, but we believe she may be a guest at this resort, and that she likely plays quite a bit of Keno.”

“Do you have a warrant, Agent Timberlake?” the desk clerk inquired.

“As I said, ma’am, Amara isn’t in any sort of trouble. I’m not here to arrest her.”

“Perhaps a subpoena, then?”

“Ma’am, is there a reason that you’re obstructing this investigation?”

“Well, Agent, our guests pay well for privacy and discretion. Unless you have a warrant or a subpoena that legally entitles you to information from this Amara woman, _whose name you don’t even know_ , I’m afraid that I can neither confirm nor deny her _existence_ , much less her _presence_ at this resort.

“Now, you’re free to look around in the _public_ areas of the resort and casino. And if you find her, I’m sure you’re able to go up to her and speak with her without my assistance.

"But if she doesn’t wish to speak with you, or if she’s either in a private area, such as a guest room, or simply not here at all, well, then I guess you’re just out of luck, Agent.” With that, she turned and went into a back office and closed the door.

At which point Cas noticed the perky blonde signaling to him subtly from behind a large ficus at the far end of the desk.

He walked down to the tree. “Yes?”

“Amara _is_ staying here, Agent. She spends about four hours every morning in the spa. My sister’s one of the spa technicians that works on her, and Amara tips really well – my sister’s made about $400 in the last two days alone from her tips. Right now, she’s getting a massage. That’s in a private area, so you won’t be able to go in there to find her.

“But in the _afternoon_ , Amara plays Keno – then she’ll be in the Keno room of the casino, and that’s a _public_ area. Just wait until after lunch, maybe another ninety minutes, and she should be in there.”

“Thank you, Miss.” Cas nodded gravely at her.

“If you go in the casino and blow about twenty bucks on blackjack, they’ll give you a coupon for the lunch buffet. It’s really a good buffet, all you can eat, and Amara eats there every day – so you might be able to catch her at lunch. Spend less than twenty, and they won’t give you the coupon, and the cost is almost forty dollars per person. But at lunch, the buffet is all there is, so you can’t even go in the restaurant unless you pay or have a coupon.”

“Well, I guess I’m playing blackjack badly for the next ten minutes or so, then.”

The perky blonde grinned at him, and Cas grinned back.

“You’re kinda cute, Agent. After you’re done, wanna….”

“No, thank you. I… I’m….”

“Taken? _Damn_.”

“Kind of. It’s…complicated.”

“But you love her?”

“ _Him_ , actually, and yes, I do.”

She blinked. “Huh. Wouldn’t have pegged _that_ , but okay, good for you, Agent. Nice to see someone being loyal, even when things are… _complicated_.”

Cas blushed a little, but smiled softly. “Thank you.”

She grinned, delighted at the blush. “Oh, look at you! _Blushing_! How long’ve you two been together?”

“Eleven years.”

“Woot! Okay, note to self, look for someone who looks at you, the way Agent Timberlake looks when he’s thinking about his guy, all blushie-out-to-the-tips-of-his-ears-cute.” She winked. “Go on, go find the blackjack area, it’s right down this hall, on the right, can’t miss it.”

Cas felt his face getting hotter as he walked away, the perky blonde still hooting quietly behind the desk. But he was still smiling.

***

Dean clicked off his phone, shoved it in his pocket, and checked another item off of his to-do list. “Okay, all the utilities will be turned back on for both the house and the Salvage Yard. Which means that the crushing equipment will be good to go, so next time we’re up there, we can crush the cars we burnt.”

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

“You all right?”

“It’s the oddest thing. You remember Cas told us he’d turned off my REM cycles, so I wouldn’t be _able_ to dream?”

“Yeah?”

“Did he say anything to you about turning them back _on_? Because I’m sure that I had a dream – not ** _the dream_** , but just **_a_** dream – last night. I keep remembering fragments of it.”

“No, he turned your REM cycle off, you went to sleep, we sat down to watch a movie, I fell asleep part way through it, and I woke up in bed the next morning. He didn’t say anything about your sleep patterns after you fell asleep.”

Sam shifted in his seat like he was twitchy. “If Cas turned off my REM cycles, then I literally should not be able to dream. But I _know_ I had a dream last night.”

“Call him and ask, Sam.”

“I don’t wanna bother Cas.”

“Fine. _I’ll_ call him.” Dean pulled his cell phone back out of his pocket and turned it back on. He dialed Cas. “Huh, went straight to voice mail, hang on…

"Hey, Cas, it’s me. Sam has a question; you said you turned his REM cycles off, so he shouldn’t be able to dream, but he had a dream last night. He’s wondering if you turned it back on and forgot to say, and if so, should he check in with you before going back to sleep, or do you think he’s okay now, or what’s going on, man?

"Give us a call back, or drop by. I’m making burgers for dinner, you’re welcome to join us. Okay, later.” He clicked to end the call, and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Then he noticed the look on Sam’s face. “What?”

“Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed, Dean.”

“What’d I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do.”

“What?”

“You didn’t tell Cas you _love_ him.”

Dean picked up a pillow from the couch and whipped at Sam as Sam ducked, laughing.

“You said you were okay with it!”

“I’m _fine_ with it! I’m _happy_ you guys are finally making progress. I’m just teasing you a little tiny bit, D. It’s what I _do_ , you know that… _right_? You’re not seriously _pissed_ at me, are you?” Sam peered at Dean, suddenly uncertain that maybe he hadn’t pushed it a little too far.

Dean sighed. “No, I’m not. Just… it’s still a little… _new_ , y’know?” Dean admitted.

“Dude, it’s been _eleven years_.”

“Of knowing how **_I_ **felt, yeah. Of knowing for sure how **_Cas_ **felt? No, Sam, it _hasn’t_. Not for me.”

“Oh. Right. Um… sorry, D.”

“’S’okay. I’m just….” Dean looked lost.

“Just what?”

“Scared. He hasn’t come back. I know why, and we talked about it, and I get it. But what if he… _doesn’t_? Or comes back, but then changes his mind, and _goes again_? What if _I fuck this up_ , Sam?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Dean. First of all, Cas already told both of us that he will be back. And you’re not gonna fuck it up, D. You want it too much to let that happen.

"And Cas _loves_ you, man. He’s not gonna just change his mind without a reason, and you’re not gonna give him one.

"So just settle down, breathe, take it easy, okay?”

Dean nodded.

But Sam thought maybe his heart wasn’t in it.

_He still looks so worried. Shit, I shouldn’t have teased him. Fuck._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Our regularly scheduled ominous music is interrupted here by the sound of elevator music* 
> 
> Cas is getting the hang of being an FBI agent, huh? :)
> 
> (Remember, my universe diverts from the show's universe at the end of S15E3, so Chuck killing people at the casino in Reno in S15E8 never happened. He's there, because he went to see Amara in S15E2. We may see him, we may not - I haven't decided yet; but he isn't just killing off random people walking through the lobby. ;) )
> 
> Comments??? *sniffle*


	59. A Couple of Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finds Amara - and Chuck. The Cosmic Entity revives the angels loyal to Cas. Cas, Gabe, and Jack surprise Sam and Dean.

Cas sat in the back of the casino’s restaurant, watching from a secluded table that gave him a surprisingly good view of the entire buffet set-up. He could watch the patrons serving themselves and be almost completely unobservable.

He had a fairly full plate, and now and then pretended to be enjoying eating something off of it.

_Damn molecules._

And then he saw _her,_ picking up a plate, and starting to make her way down the set-up, now and then speaking to someone in line behind her. Cas couldn’t see who that was; Amara was blocking his view.

But when she was about halfway down the buffet table, she leaned back to laugh at something her companion had said, and Cas got a clear view… _of Chuck_.

_Shit!_

Cas pulled back into the depths of his booth as far as possible. He didn’t think Chuck had noticed him.

Fortunately, the restaurant at lunch was all buffet, and pay-as-you-enter, so Cas could leave at any time. He waited until Chuck and Amara headed back to their table, which was away from his, and got up, going in the opposite direction, and finding the nearest door to the outside.

He ended up back out on the corner where he’d originally landed.

Cas pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Dean. Voice mail. He waited. “Hello, Dean. It’s me. I’m in Reno. I just saw _Chuck and Amara_ , eating lunch together. _**Dean.** Chuck’s. Not. Gone._ Call me back.” He clicked to end the call.

Then he thought to check his messages, and found the one Dean had left. He listened to it, then realized that he hadn’t mentioned to either Sam or Dean that he had always intended to give Sam monitored REM cycles, and that he should have.

_Oops. I was too focused on fixing the whole situation, and forgot the smaller details._

Well, better that he give Sam a REM cycle and forget to mention it than to have forgotten the REM cycle. He knew Sam would understand.

He just hoped that Dean would.

And then he realized that he hadn’t told either of them about the larger problem – _Lucifer’s story_. And now they knew he’d been in Reno, and would want to know _why_.

_Dammit. This is going to look **bad** , like I don’t trust Dean enough to tell him what’s going on, and it’s about Sam, so he’s going to be **pissed**. He’s not gonna want to hear my excuses, and it’s not going to matter that I’ve been working hard trying to fix the problem; all he’ll see is that, once again, **I went off on my own,** and didn’t tell him what was going on._

_Shit, shit, shit!_

And then his world went black.

***

“Hey, Cassie. Rise and shine, there, little brother.”

He knew that voice. That irritatingly cheerful…. His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself in a room he didn’t recognize, lying on a bed, looking up into a face on someone impossibly sitting in a chair, who absolutely should _not_ be there.

“Gabe…?”

“Heya, Cassie. Yeah, it’s me. _Calm down_ , calm down, breathe slowly, you already hyperventilated once out on the sidewalk before you even noticed I was behind you. Don’t pass out again, ‘kay? _Breathe_ , Cas, in, out, in, out. That’s it. Just breathe. There ya go.”

“Gabriel, _how are you here?_ ”

“The Cosmic Entity came around and woke up most of the angels and kicked us out of The Empty, Cas. All of us who had been loyal… _to you_. Said you were going to _need_ us. Something about Chuck’s gonna lose it and try to make the Winchesters kill each other. The Entity told me specifically to tell you this; hang on, I memorized it.”

Gabe closed his eyes, then recited, “‘ ** _Deal’s off. Chuck’s lost his marbles. Save your boys. I’ll even give you back your kid. Just deal with God, so I don’t have to._** ’”

Cas’ eyes went wide. “The Entity called off my deal… and brought back… _Jack_?”

Gabe nodded, then turned and called, “Hey, kiddo, c’mere.”

“ ** _Dad?_** ” Cas sat up, and saw Jack standing from where he’d been sitting on the couch.

“ ** _Jack!_** ”

Jack ran, and Cas stood, and they hugged. Then Cas pulled Gabe into it, too.

“So,” Gabe said, mildly. “ _Trip to Kansas_ , anyone? ' _There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home_.'”

***

Cas landed the three of them outside the front door of the Bunker. He and Gabriel had sent the rest of the angels who’d come back from The Empty up to Heaven; it had been running on close to no power for too long. Cas deputized Hannah, for the time being, to be in charge.

“Wait here.” Cas vanished, and reappeared in the War Room, just outside the kitchen. As he’d suspected, Sam was researching in the library, and Dean was in the kitchen washing dishes, but to get their actual locations, he’d needed to be inside the warded Bunker; after all, he’d warded the boys himself with Enochian runes carved into their ribs years ago. Then he vanished and reappeared back outside.

“Okay. Sam’s in the library, and Dean’s in the kitchen, so if we’re quiet, we can sneak in and down the stairs, and you can hide behind the pillars there in the War Room. Then I’ll call them in, and you can come out and surprise them.”

Gabe and Jack winked and saluted him.

He got out his key, and let them in the front door. They snuck down the iron stairs, and Jack and Gabe hid.

Then Cas stood between the two pillars, and called out “ ** _Sam? Dean?_** ”

“I’m in the library, Cas; I think Dean’s in the kitchen,” Sam called back.

“Yes, I know – could you both come in the War Room, please?”

“Hey, Cas, did you get my message?” Dean sauntered in from the kitchen, smiling, drying a glass with a towel.

“Yes, Dean.”

_But I take it you didn’t get mine…._

Then Sam appeared. “What’s up, Cas?”

“I have a couple of surprises.”

Gabe and Jack popped out from behind the pillars, grinning.

Dean dropped the glass, and it shattered. Sam passed out and slid bonelessly to the floor, falling rather gracefully for a man of his height.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENT. C'mon, guys, please? :)


	60. The Rest of the Angels...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas, Sam, Dean, Gabe, and Jack sit down for a chat. Then Gabe and Jack go to another room, to let the other three have a private discussion re: Cas' recent actions.

Dean backed into the kitchen, but came back a moment later with the broom and dustpan. “Just stay back until I get the glass up, okay? And then I’m gonna want to know exactly _what the **fuck** is going on_.”

Cas stepped gingerly over to Sam, avoiding the glass by the kitchen. He touched Sam’s forehead briefly, then helped him up, and to a chair at the War Room’s map table. He waved Gabe and Jack to chairs on the side of the table furthest from the kitchen door, and seated himself next to Sam.

Dean disappeared into the kitchen again, dumping the shards of glass into the trash bin under the sink. He set down the broom and dust pan, and then stood in front of the sink, gripping the counter, leaning forward and letting it hold him up, while he tried to catch his breath.

_I’m not surprised Sam went down. Truth is, I’m more surprised I didn’t join him on the floor._

He rubbed his eyes, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. And then he returned to the War Room.

He sat down at the map table.

“Is anyone _else_ going to be joining us?” he asked, dryly.

“Not so far as I’m aware,” Gabe answered, cheerily. “We sent the rest of the angels on up to Heaven, to power it back up.”

“Of course you did.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _The **rest** of the angels?_”

“Dean… may I borrow your cell phone? Mine seems to have lost charge.” Cas leaned forward toward the table, as if expecting Dean to just slide it down to him.

“You need to make a call right _now_ , Cas?” Dean frowned.

“Um, well, no. I guess not,” Cas mumbled.

“Gabe, not that it’s not great to see you, but… _how are you here?_ ” Sam asked. “We watched you _die_.”

Cas explained, “The Cosmic Entity came around and woke up most of the angels in The Empty – the ones who had been loyal to me – and brought them back, saying we would need them to deal with Chuck.”

“Yeah, he gave me a specific message for Cas.” Gabe closed his eyes, then recited, “ _‘Deal’s off. Chuck’s lost his marbles. Save your boys. I’ll even give you back your kid. Just deal with God, so I don’t have to.’_ ”

“ _What_ deal?” Dean wanted to know.

“Um… I made a deal with The Cosmic Entity a while ago, to save Jack from it. Doesn’t matter now,” Cas said.

“Maybe not, but you’re _telling_ me about it, _later_.” Dean pointed sharply at Cas.

Cas just nodded.

“So, The Cosmic Entity is on our side, then?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but I think you’ve gotten everything out of it you’re likely to,” Gabriel told them.

“How many angels are we talkin’, here, ball park?” Dean asked.

“About three hundred thousand. He woke some of the ones that I killed when I was drunk with power from the Purgatory souls.” Cas said.

“Wait, so, how are we supposed to _‘deal with God’_ when Chuck’s _gone?_ ” Sam inquired.

“Chuck’s _not_ gone. I saw him this afternoon. He’s with Amara, in Reno.”

“Cas, why were _you_ in Reno? I thought you were out communing with nature to regenerate your grace.” Dean looked ready to spontaneously combust.

“I was doing research, for Sam’s condition,” Cas told him.

“Sam has a _condition_?” Jack asked. “Are you okay?”

“Just nightmares, Jack,” Sam said, smiling softly.

“About that. Sam, Dean, I need to speak with you.” Cas decided to just bite the bullet.

_If Dean blows up, well, I deserve it. But I’m not letting him push me away._

Dean sighed. “Okay.”

“Jack, why don’t you and I go in the library, okay?” Gabe led the Nephilim away.

“What’s up, Cas?” Sam asked.

“Sam, I didn’t want to tell you what I had discovered until I could verify that it was _true_. I was in Reno to try to obtain that verification, but that didn’t work out. So, I’ll tell you, but keep in mind, it could all be lies.”

“Um… okay. That sounds a little ominous,” Sam turned his chair to face Cas. “But I guess I need to know, so, what did you discover?”

“Sam, when I checked you out the other night, I went into your head, into what some would call your ‘memory palace.’ Essentially, each memory you keep has its own door – you walk through the door, and you’re in the memory. You can see it, but you’re not actually taking part, just observing. But in _your_ memory palace, there’s a rather large open area, and in it is your memory’s version of The Cage. When I took the damage from you that was done to you there, but not the memories, that area was created to keep it a little separated from the rest of your memories.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, following along.

“But when I got to that open area, Lucifer was waiting. And he could see and talk to me, and hear me talk to him…because he _isn’t_ a memory. Or, he _is_ , but he’s... _more_ , somehow. He confirmed that he had died. But he said that when he died, he had been given a choice – go to The Empty, or go back to The Cage.”

“Well, then why isn’t he _in_ one of those places, Cas?” Dean wanted to know.

“He said that no one specified that The Cage had to actually be the one _in Hell_. He somehow knew about The Cage in Sam’s memory palace, and he chose to go _there_. According to Lucifer, he’s been in residence in Sam’s brain since we watched him die.”

“And you didn’t think this might be useful information for us to have, Cas?” Dean asked, pointedly.

“I told you, I wanted to _verify_ it, before I told Sam something that I knew would scare him. I wanted to find out if someone had _really_ given Lucifer a choice, and, if so, _who_. And if there was anything I could do about it. Because I asked Lucifer how his being in Sam’s brain differed from being in _possession_ , but not in _control_ , of a vessel, and how could he be in possession of Sam without his _consent_?”

“But I _gave_ consent….” Sam started to say.

“No, Sam – you gave consent _then_. He’d have to get your consent _again_ , to come back, once he’d been evicted from you once. And he had been. He admitted to me that he’d lied to you about being in your head consistently since you said yes back in Detroit.”

“So how is he there _now_ , then?” Dean grumbled.

“He said that he’s no longer an Archangel. He’s a _‘memory with intent’_ , and so is the Michael in your dreams. He said that if you were to forget them, Sam, they wouldn’t be expelled from you, they would simply _cease to exist_.”

“Interesting.” Sam was thinking that through. “So, if you wipe them from my memories, Cas, like….”

“Like you erased _me_ from Lisa and Ben’s memories…” Dean followed along.

“Then they’d just be… _gone?_ ” Sam asked.

“That’s my theory, yes. And that’s the other part of what I was trying to research. I’d been contacting the few angels left on Earth who would still take my calls, but none of them knew anything. So I thought I’d have to go up to Heaven, but then I had a thought.”

“ _Amara_ ,” Dean put in.

“Exactly. If I could get her alone, explain the situation, I hoped she’d tell me the truth, if she knew anything. But then when I saw her, I saw _Chuck_ with her, and I didn’t want him to see me, or guess that he’d been seen. So I _left_ , went outside, tried to call you, Dean. I left you a voice mail message, saying that _Chuck wasn’t gone_. Apparently, I was hyperventilating, and I passed out. And when I came to, I was in a hotel room with Gabe and Jack. Gabe told me he’d been right behind me when I went down. I almost passed out _again_ , seeing him.”

Cas waited for Dean to snarl at him about going off on his own without telling them what was going on.

“Good job, Cas.” Dean smiled at him.

_Wait…what?_

“Um… thanks?” Cas looked so confused.

“Seriously, man, good work.”

“You’re not… _mad?_ ”

“Cas, you discovered something that would have made Sam panic dangerously. If you’d told him when he was that knocked-out from being exhausted that Lucifer was basically living in his brain, it would have freaked him out. So, you didn’t hide that you had found _something_ out, you told us that; and you told us that you’d be researching it. That’s what you did, and what you did makes perfect sense.

“I might have _preferred_ to know you were going to Reno before you went, but _I trust your judgment_.

"And when you were there, you found out important information, you didn’t get seen, and you sent me a message about it. And then you found reinforcements, which is even better.

“Why would I be _mad_ at you, Cas?”

Dean’s smile was full of trust, and love, and it warmed Cas’ heart.

And that little light in Dean’s psyche? Well, it's not so _little_ , now.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's making such progress. I'm so proud. *sniffle* :)
> 
> Comments, please!!! :)
> 
> (SPOILER ALERT FOR S15E09 -  
> sorry, but I just have to rant a tiny bit here:   
> having seen S15E09 tonight....sorry, but my version of S15 is just *better*. I didn't notice who wrote E09, but Dean's prayer was...sad/awful/pathetic/other adjectives that I can't think of just now. Ugh. And an angel trap?? Benny's dead??? *Sam* (OUR SAM) gave up hope? Really??? No. Just....no. Oh hell, no. No.   
> If you want to comment on my rant, as opposed to my story, that's fine, but please put it in parentheses, so I know the difference. Thx!)


	61. But Dad, You're Not a Girl...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gives Cas his letters. Sam and Gabe chat. Pizza is ordered. Gabe and Jack are told about Dean and Cas.

Dean went to make fresh coffee.

Cas looked at Sam. “ _That_ wasn’t what I was expecting.”

Sam smiled softly. “He’s been working really hard, Cas. Oh, you should ask him about your letter.”

“My… letter?”

“Yeah, the one he wrote as part of his therapy. His therapist told him to give mine to me, I assume he has one for you, too.”

“Oh, I think he did mention that. I’ll go ask him.” Cas got up and followed Dean into the kitchen.

Dean was dancing to unheard music, while simultaneously getting out mugs and creamer for the coffee that was brewing. He looked…happy. Cas smiled to see it.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turned, and smiled. “Oh, hey, Cas.”

“Sam mentioned that you might have something for me? A letter?”

“Ooh, right, good call. You actually get _two_ letters, hold on, let me just go grab my notebook.” Dean went to his bedroom, and returned in a moment with two sheets of paper.

“Okay, so, this first one, I wrote this on Saturday morning, early. It was before we talked, before I apologized, so when I showed it to my therapist, she suggested that it might no longer be relevant, and maybe I should rewrite it. And that was kinda tempting, but I still want you to read it. And then after therapy this week, I wrote a second letter. My therapist hasn’t seen that one, but I still want you to see it, now.”

Dean held the papers out to Cas. Cas took them gingerly, and set them on the kitchen table. He took off his trench coat and laid it over the back of the chair, then seated himself, and started to read the first letter. Dean watched as his eyes moved across the page. Cas smiled, briefly, then looked concerned, then nodded, then nodded again.

When he got to the part of the first letter where Dean had written “absolutely none of that was on you,” Cas gasped softly. And when he read the next line, “And I should never have let you walk out of the bunker,” a tear slid down Cas’ cheek. But when he got to the part where Dean had written that he didn’t have the right to ask Cas to forgive him, or any expectation of forgiveness or continued friendship from Cas, because he’d ruined that, Cas could no longer stay silent.

“Oh, Dean, no. I’m so sorry you felt this way, even for a moment.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand, and squeezed it gently.

Dean sat down heavily, sighed, and squeezed Cas’ hand back.

“And for the record, Dean? I never stopped believing in you.”

And at that, a tear slid down Dean’s cheek.

“Read the second one, Cas.”

Cas turned to the second page.

He got to the end of the third paragraph. “I should have said them years ago. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

He kept reading; when he got to the line where Dean said that he might have to keep writing, so he hoped Cas would keep reading, he whispered, “Always.”

By the end of the second letter, Cas’ face was lined with tear-tracks, but he looked over at Dean, and smiled a brilliant, albeit gummy, smile, and said, simply, “I love you, too.”

Dean reached over with one hand, cupped Cas’ cheek gently, and wiped the tears away with his thumb. He leaned toward Cas, and Cas leaned forward toward him, feeling like Dean’s gravity was pulling him closer inexorably. Dean smiled softly, then pressed gentle soft lips in a chaste kiss on Cas’ cheek, then another on the other cheek, and finally, one on Cas’ lips. Both felt like they were barely breathing.

Then Cas surprised even himself by surging forward just as Dean had started to pull back, catching Dean’s lips with his, in a deeper, harder kiss that had Dean’s mouth opening under his.

It lasted only a brief moment, but it felt like forever to each of them.

***

Sam wandered into the library. Jack was wandering the stacks, looking for something to read. Gabriel was sitting at the table, and saw Sam enter the room.

“Hey, Samshine.”

“Hey, Gabe. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too. I missed you.”

“I _mourned_ you. I don’t want to go through that again. So, do me a favor? **_Don’t die again_**.” Sam’s voice was low and biting. The venom in it startled Gabriel.

“Um… okay. I will try very hard to avoid it.”

“Do better than _try_ , Gabe. We still need you. I still need you…. Dammit, Gabe. How many times do I have to lose you?” Sam whispered.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I know I faked my death a lot. I didn’t realize how much it affected you.” Gabe didn’t often feel remorse, but he did, now.

Sam nodded, and slid into a chair. “Sorry. It’s been a long week, and Cas just gave us some news that kinda freaked me out, and it’s all just been a little too much, and honestly, Gabe, _I’m just so fucking glad to see you and Jack_.”

“Yeah, I get it, Sammy. No worries. We’re really here. And as far as I know, we’re not going anywhere.” Gabe smiled hesitantly.

Sam smiled wearily back. “ _Good_.”

Jack came out of the stacks with a book in his hands. He came over to the table. “Sam.”

Sam reached up and pulled him down into a tight hug. “ _Jack_. Missed you, kiddo.”

Jack set the book on the table and seated himself, just as Dean and Cas came in.

“Anyone hungry? I can call for pizza,” Dean offered.

“Ooh, pizza sounds so _good_ ,” Jack replied.

Gabriel and Sam nodded. Cas just shrugged, but Dean knew he wasn’t really eating these days.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and called Antonio’s to put in their order. “Food will be here in about an hour.”

That done, he handed the phone to Cas. “Here, you said you needed to borrow my phone before.”

“Oh, thanks, it can wait.” Cas handed it back, and sat down next to Sam.

Dean shrugged, smiled at him, and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Dean went to sit down, and on the way, ruffled Jack’s hair gently. “Good to see you, Jack. Maybe we can take Baby out later, go for a drive.”

Jack bounced up and hugged Dean tightly. Dean hugged him back.

Dean sat down. “So, Gabe, done killing me for the time being?”

Gabriel nodded, tensing slightly.

“Done killing _yourself_ for the time being?”

Gabriel nodded, tensing a little more.

“Good. Good to see you.” Dean grinned at him.

Gabriel relaxed. “You too, Dean-o. You look… _good_ , actually. Almost, dare I say it, _happy_. What gives?”

“Oh, not much. Therapy. I quit drinking. Fell in love.” He glanced over at Cas, unsure whether he should have included that last bit, but Cas just smiled serenely, and gave him a tiny nod.

“Oh, really? And when do we get to meet the lucky girl?” Gabe asked.

Cas leaned forward slowly, and - when Dean didn’t stop him, just grinned at him - said, “Um, that would be _me_.” He looked Gabe in the eye as if daring him to comment, then sat back, and grinned back at Dean.

Gabriel blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it again. Finally, he said, “Well, it’s about _time_.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Jack looked confused. He turned to Cas.

“But Dad, you’re not a girl.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much progress. ;)
> 
> Poor Jack, being so literal. Can't think where he gets that from.... :)
> 
> Comments, please? :)  
> It's my birthday, if that makes you more inclined. (Actually, it's my birthday whether or not you comment. But still...) ;)


	62. Hire Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack get the keys to Baby. Dean invites Cas to stay. Sam gets Gabe caught up on what's been going on.

Dean was cleaning up pizza boxes, paper plates, and plastic cups from the War Room table. Sam and Gabriel had disappeared somewhere. Cas and Jack were talking in the kitchen; Dean could occasionally hear the sound of their voices, though not what they were saying.

_It’s good to have the kid back._

He stuffed the last of the trash into the garbage bag. He picked up the last pizza box, into which he’d put all the remaining leftover slices, and carried it to the kitchen, pausing to knock on the doorframe.

Cas looked up. “Dean? Why are you knocking?”

“You guys sound like you’re having a pretty intense conversation, and I didn’t want to interrupt, but I need to put the leftovers in the refrigerator. So, I thought I’d give you a heads-up before I just walked in on you.”

Cas smiled. “That’s thoughtful, but you can come in. We’re just getting caught up. A lot’s happened in the past few weeks.”

“Dean, did you mean it, earlier? When you said we could go for a drive?” Jack asked.

“Sure, kiddo. Gotta see what you remember about driving, after all; it’s been a while.”

“You want _me_ to drive _Baby_?” Jack gasped.

“Well, sure. I taught you _how_ to drive in her, didn’t I?” Dean grinned. “You want to come with us, Cas? Get some fresh air?”

“I wouldn’t want to be a distraction….”

“No, it’d do you good to get out with us.” Dean smiled easily, then handed the keys to Jack. “Why don’t you go down to the garage, start her up, and make sure you remember what all the different parts of Baby do, before you try actually going anywhere?”

Jack looked like he’d just won an all-expense paid trip to a nougat factory. He moved quickly to head for the garage before Dean could potentially change his mind.

“We’ll get back pretty late, won’t we?” Cas asked. “It’s already dark out; you sure you want Jack driving Baby in the dark?”

“He drove her in the dark the first time he ever had her out, Cas. He’ll be fine. And if it’s late when we get back, so what? Stay here tonight. I told you we’d leave your things right where you had them. Your room is still here… i _f you want it_.” Dean looked studiously at the floor. He was a little flushed, but smiling.

“What are you asking me, Dean?” Cas moved a little closer. “Are you asking if I want to keep my room here, filled with my things, as opposed to moving out completely? Or are you asking me to stay in the Bunker tonight, but in a… _different_ room?”

“Um… the latter.” Dean was very quiet. He held his breath, waiting.

“And _which_ room, other than my own, are you suggesting I might want to stay in, Dean?” Cas smiled as he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

“… **_Mine_** ….” Dean whispered.

***

Sam and Gabriel were in the library, again. Sam was trying to bring Gabe up to speed on everything that had happened since Gabriel had been killed in Apocalypse World by Michael, including Michael’s possession of Dean; Michael’s experiments with creating super monsters; the attempt to cure Jack’s illness with Gabe’s grace from Sergei’s collection, which ultimately resulted in Jack’s death; Jack’s resurrection by Cas and Lily Sumner; Michael’s super monster attack on Kansas City and the ultimate trapping of Michael within Dean’s mind; Dean’s plan to trap himself and Michael in the Ma’lak box at the bottom of the ocean; Donatello’s loss of his soul; Michael’s escape from Dean’s mind, his possession of Rowena, and his ultimate destruction by Jack; Mary’s death; Dumah’s attempt to use Jack to take over both Heaven and Earth, Dumah’s death, and the subsequent attempt to capture Jack in the Ma’lak box, ending in Jack’s escape and his attempt to force everyone to tell the truth all the time; Chuck providing them with the “Equalizer,” a gun that could kill Jack, but would also kill the shooter; Dean’s failed attempt to kill Jack; Chuck’s revelation that he has been manipulating the story; Jack’s death at Chuck’s hands; Sam’s failed attempt to kill Chuck, which ended in both of them being wounded; Chuck’s opening of Hell to unleash ghosts and zombies; Belphegor’s possession of Jack’s body; the evacuation of Harlan; Rowena and Ketch coming to help; Kevin’s decision to wander as a spirit, rather than return to Hell; and Belphegor’s play to use Lillith’s crook and Cas having to end him.

“So, we’re in the mausoleum, and Belphegor’s plan didn’t work, and Rowena comes up with a last-ditch plan for a spell – she’ll call all the escaped souls back and take them into herself, then cast herself into Hell. The only problem is that the spell required her death. And Billie had told her that I would be the one to kill her… so, she made _me_ do it, Gabe.” Sam’s voice broke.

“Oh, Sammy. I’m sorry,” Gabe said. “I always had kind of a soft spot for that witch.” Gabriel’s eyes wandered to the spot in the library’s stacks where he and Rowena had once enjoyed an afternoon – and each other.

“So, then we came back here, and I went to bed. Then Dean and Cas had a fight that ended in Cas walking out and renting a cabin somewhere, and we didn’t see or hear from him for a couple of weeks. And after Cas left, Dean got just blind drunk, and passed out, and the next day, when he told me what had happened between them, I made him get therapy.”

“I still can’t quite picture that,” Gabriel admitted.

“No, yeah, he’s been taking it really seriously, Gabe. He’s been working really hard. I think the thought of permanently losing Cas scared him enough to realize that he really had to make a change.”

“But who does he _see?_ With all Dean’s seen and done, I’d have thought any reputable therapist would have locked him away as delusional after the first session. I mean, you and I know it’s all true, but… c’mon. It sounds _nuts_.”

“Yeah, I thought of that immediately. But we had met this shapeshifter, Mia Vallens, who was working as a grief counselor. She was honestly trying to do good in the world, and helping her patients resolve their grief by giving them another chance to talk to their deceased loved ones. She had actually helped Jack with his feelings of loss regarding his mom.

“So, I made a call, and asked her if she’d be willing to help us out and take Dean on as a patient. She understands our world, knows who and what we are. So, whatever Dean tells her, she accepts it and doesn’t try to second-guess whether or not he’s telling the truth, or working in metaphor, or whatever.

“She’s got him writing in a journal to try to sort through his own thoughts. He’s had three sessions, and, I’m telling you, Gabe, it’s _working_. He writes nearly every day. He’s calmer, more accepting of Cas, being more open about his feelings. It’s great,” Sam said.

“Speaking of Dean and Cas…. _When_ …?”

“It’s pretty recent. I mean, obviously, there’s the _history_ , but them actually **_being together?_ **Yeah, I think that’s been within just the last few days, actually. They’d agreed that Cas wouldn’t be moving back in yet, to give Dean a chance to not have to worry about backsliding and taking things out on Cas again. But Dean did say that Mia told him that spending time with Cas now and then is good.”

“But Cas will probably head back to his cabin, shortly?” Gabe realized.

“Yeah. But you and Jack can stay. Jack’s room is just as he left it, I honestly couldn’t deal with trying to clean it out. And it’s not like we don’t have enough rooms here, Gabe. Pick one that doesn’t already have someone’s stuff in it, it’s yours.”

“Okay. So, what’s going on with you, Sam? You said Cas gave you news that freaked you out, earlier. What’s up?”

“I’ve been having nightmares, in which I’m back in The Cage, and Lucifer and Michael are torturing me. They were getting worse and worse, and I was so desperate to avoid dreaming that I was pushing myself into exhaustion to fall into a deep sleep when I knew I’d only be able to get a couple of hours, or just not sleeping at all. So, of course, I got to the stage where anytime you close your eyes, you start dreaming _immediately_. When Cas realized what I was going through, he reset my sleep schedule. But that wasn’t enough. The dream kept getting worse. So, Cas checked me out, went inside my head. And found Lucifer.”

“Wait, _what_? Lucy’s _dead_ , Sam.”

“Yeah, I know. _He_ knows, Gabe. He _told_ Cas that he was dead. He said that when he died, he was given a choice – he could go to The Empty, or he could go back into The Cage. But he said no one specified that it had to be The Cage that’s actually _in Hell,_ and somehow, he knew about The Cage in what Cas calls my ‘memory palace.’ So, he went to The Cage in my head, and he, and Michael, somehow, have been living as ‘memories with intent’ in my brain. Cas is trying to figure out how to get rid of them; in the meantime, he shut off my REM cycles.” Sam frowned. “Except….”

“Except… what?”

“Except _I had a dream_ , last night. That’s what Dean’s voice mail message to Cas was about, the one Dean mentioned right before you and Jack surprised us. If Cas shut down my REM cycles, I shouldn’t be able to dream, but I _did_. He told us what he found out today, but he didn’t explain _that_.”

“Sounds like you boys have been busy while I was sleeping,” Gabe said.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you this – we’re rich, now.” Sam laughed.

“Rich?”

“Yeah. First, it seems Bobby left everything to us, but because we’re technically wanted men, no one ever got word to us. But we had this seriously messed-up, complicated case this past week, and part of it involved a car that had ended up in the Salvage Yard, and when we had Jody track it down for us, she discovered and helped us claim the inheritance, which came out to just over seven million.”

“How?”

“Bobby’s will left everything to us _or our heirs_. So, we backdated wills leaving everything to our alternate identities, Sam Wesson and Dean Smith. And, in those identities, we signed the paperwork to make the claim.”

“Okay. You said that was ‘first.’ A first implies a second,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Yeah. Do you remember Claire, Jody’s foster daughter?” Sam asked.

“Blondie? Sure. She’s the daughter of Cas’ late vessel, right?”

“Yeah. Jimmy Novak. Well, about eight years ago, I helped Claire to file a claim on Jimmy’s life insurance policy. But since Cas was using Jimmy’s body, obviously, no body was ever found, and Jimmy was listed as ‘missing, presumed dead,’ and the insurer wouldn’t pay out. But after seven years, Jimmy’s status was changed to ‘declared legally dead,’ and they had to pay up. Claire got a check for eight million dollars, and decided to share the wealth. Because I had helped with filing the claim, she gave me a little more than she gave Dean, but, yeah. I got one million, Dean got seven hundred fifty thousand.”

Gabe whistled. “So between the two of you and the two gifts, you guys are worth nearly nine million, practically overnight.”

“Yeah, that’s about it. So, I’m trying to figure out how to hire a research assistant, and Dean wants to hire someone to work at the Salvage Yard, a manager to run it for us.”

“I can do research. _Hire me_ ,” Gabe suggested.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo much progress. So, so much. :D
> 
> Comments???


	63. Team Free Will 3.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gives Jack a quick refresher course on how to drive. Sam hires Gabe - sort of. Cas and Dean and Jack stop for - what else? - pie.

Jack was sitting in the driver’s seat, humming, practically _vibrating_ , with excitement, when Dan and Cas entered the garage. Jack looked up at them, his eyes shining with happiness.

Dean and Cas grinned at him. Cas slid into the back seat, behind Jack. Dean got into the passenger seat.

“Okay, Jack. Now, first thing, take a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. You’ve got yourself turned up to an 11 on a scale of 1-10, and you need to calm down, and _focus_. Okay?” Dean smiled, and ruffled Jack’s hair gently.

Jack nodded, and breathed slowly, in and out.

“Okay, I’m good, Dean,” he said.

“I know you are. Okay. Let’s do a quick refresher, okay? Baby’s got an automatic transmission, so there’s no clutch pedal. You’ve got the brake pedal on the left, and the accelerator pedal on the right.

“Without moving it, what would you move, and how far, to put Baby in reverse?” Dean asked.

“This lever here to the right of the steering wheel, the gear shift; I’d move it down just one space to R, for reverse,” Jack said.

“Good. And once you had backed her out of her parking space and were ready to go forward?”

“I’d move the gear shift down two spaces; through neutral, into drive.”

“Correct. Now, check your mirrors; are they all where they need to be so you can see behind you? I’m taller than you, so you might have to adjust them,” Dean reminded him.

“Right.” Jack adjusted the mirrors slightly.

“Okay. Without turning her on, yet, what would you do to back her out of her space? Tell me, step by step,” Dean instructed.

“I would put the key in the ignition, and turn it to start her up. I would check my mirrors, and glance back through the center of the car and out through the rear window. I would put my foot on the brake, and shift into reverse. I would lift my foot slowly from the brake, as I checked mirrors again, then glance behind, keeping left hand on the wheel, putting right hand on the back of the front seat. Then I’d gently give her a little gas by pressing on the accelerator, and shift my foot back to the brake, as I turned the wheel to angle her properly in order to be able to go forward. And as she got to where she needed to be, I’d press on the brake, so I could shift her into drive.”

“Good. And then?”

“And then I’d shift her into drive, put my right hand back on the steering wheel, take my foot off the brake, and press gently on the accelerator to give her some gas.”

“Okay. Now think – did you forget anything?” Dean asked.

Jack bit his lip as he thought for a moment.

“I… I can’t think of anything. Did I forget something, Dean?”

Dean grinned. “How about opening the garage door?”

Jack blushed, but all three of them laughed. Dean hit the remote to open the garage door.

“Okay, Jack, start her up.”

***

“Hire _you_?” Sam looked blankly at Gabriel.

“Sure. I sometimes have a short attention span, I’ll admit, but I know the lore, I know Heaven, I’m familiar with most of the books you have here – heck, I helped _write_ some of them, including the Bible. You and I get along, we work well together. And while I’m certainly willing to help out in dealing with Dad, you know my history, Sam. I’m not much of a fighter. Hell, I ran for millennia rather than deal with my brothers. I’d rather stay back and make sure everyone gets the information they need, when they need it. I can help. Hire me.”

“Gabe, you know you’re always _welcome_ here, right? You don’t _need_ to take a low-level position as a research assistant to just be here and help out when you feel like it. I mean, I’d love for your help with the lore we don’t know, and in finding the really arcane stuff, but somehow, I dunno, I can’t quite see you doing the _filing_ , sitting at a computer making entries into a database, and fielding reference calls for hunters all day long, every day. I need help with the basic _clerical_ stuff, and that’s what I’ve been wanting to hire someone to do. I _can’t_ hire you to be a research assistant.”

Gabriel looked glum, but nodded.

“You’re going to be a _senior researcher_. I’ll hire someone _else_ to do the boring clerical stuff. There’s no reason to get either you or I bogged down in that. That way, you get a title that befits what I could actually envision you doing.”

“So, wait, you… you _are_ hiring me?” Gabe was astonished.

“Sure. For room and board. I’m not _paying_ an Archangel who can just snap for anything he wants.” Sam grinned at him.

“Fair.” Gabriel grinned back, and snapped up a lollipop.

***

Jack drove cautiously, but remembered what Dean had taught him. They stuck to the back roads, windows down for the fresh air, heater on full blast to stay warm in the mid-November evening. Dean rode on the passenger side to be able to give Jack reminders, if needed, with his arm draped casually over the back of the front seat. Now and then, he glanced at Cas in the back seat, and smiled softly.

They’d been on the road about an hour, when Dean spotted a 24-hour diner. “Hey, Jack, pull in, let’s see if they have pie.”

Jack pulled into the parking lot and found a space. He parked, and turned the engine off. He looked over at Dean, then lunged to hug him. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” Dean hugged back, chuckling.

They got out and headed inside. They found a booth, and sat down, Cas and Dean on one side of the table, Jack on the other, glancing through the menus.

The waitress came over. “You boys ready to order?”

“I’d just like a cup of coffee, please,” Cas said.

“What do you have for pie?” Dean asked.

“Apple, cherry, blueberry, coconut cream, and pecan. You can get all but the coconut one _a la mode_ , but you can get extra whipped cream on all of ‘em. Your choice of cold or heated up.”

“I’ll have pecan, heated, with ice cream and extra whipped cream, and a cup of coffee, please. Jack?” Dean leaned back in the booth.

“I’ll have apple, heated, with ice cream and extra whipped cream, a cup of coffee, and a glass of water, please,” was Jack’s order.

“Comin’ right up.” She stalked off.

“Hey, Jack, got a joke for you,” Dean said.

“Okay, what is it?” Jack asked.

“What’s round and bad-tempered?”

“Danny DeVito?”

Dean blinked, then laughed. “No, not what I was gonna say, although that’s funny. No, it’s a ‘ _vicious circle_.’”

Jack hooted with laughter, then excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Cas stared out the window, lost in thought. Dean took his hand and rubbed it gently. “You okay, Cas?”

Cas turned his head, and smiled at Dean. “Yes, Dean. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“Lucifer. I’m just wondering if it’s even _possible_ to excise all memories of him from Sam’s brain.”

“Why not? You removed all memories of me from Lisa and Ben.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t as complicated, Dean. While you _are_ a heroic figure, you are _not_ the subject of cultural myths, legends and innumerable books and movies the world over. Lucifer _is_.”

“Oh, right, I get it. You’re wondering how to remove the _personal_ knowledge of Lucifer that Sam has, without removing the _cultural legend_ knowledge, and worrying that removing the personal knowledge won’t be enough to excise him completely from Sam's brain, such that he can't do any more damage to Sam.” Dean nodded.

“Yes, that, and wondering also if I excise _all_ of it, but then Sam sees a movie on television that features Lucifer – say, _Rosemary’s Baby_ , for example – would that bring it all _back_? Would it give Lucifer another foothold? See, this is what I don’t know. And there’s just so _much_ information about Lucifer out there, in the lore that Sam deals with _every day_ …. I just don’t know if it can be _done_ , Dean.”

“Cas, if _anyone_ can find a solution and do what needs to be done to fix Sam’s problem, I have faith that it’s _you_. And if you _can’t_ do it, it won’t be because you didn’t _try_ , or because you didn’t _care_ about Sam, and we’ll find a way to get through it. It’s not all on you, Cas. We’re a _team_ , remember? _Team Free Will_?” Dean smiled.

Cas still looked worried, but smiled back. “Isn’t that _Team Free Will 3.0_ , at this point?”

Dean laughed. “I guess it is. Go team!”

And as the light in Dean's soul shimmered a tiny bit more brightly still, Cas noticed it suddenly, and blinked.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, that little light.... Seems that might be important. I wonder how...? ;)
> 
> Comments?? :D


	64. Can't Miss What You Can't Remember Clearly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's feeling energetic. Cas is feeling old. Dean is feeling insecure. Jody's feeling tired. And Claire? Claire's missing what she can't remember.

Jack pulled Baby back into her spot in the Bunker’s garage, parked, and turned off the engine.

“Good job, kiddo,” Dean told him.

“Thanks!” Jack was still nearly jumping out of his skin.

“I think it’s getting pretty late, Jack. I believe Sam left your room just as it was; why don’t you go see if you need anything?” Cas suggested.

“Okay, Dad.” He bounded off toward his room.

“I can’t remember _ever_ having had that much energy, even when I was a kid,” Dean remarked, as he and Cas started the long walk into the Bunker themselves.

“Mac’n cheese with marshmallow fluff, or just not eating at all, probably didn’t give you that much energy, Dean,” Cas said, steadily. “I don’t know for sure which of your memories from prior to Hell were real, but those repeated themselves often enough that I’m sure they really happened.”

“Yeah. The marshmallow fluff was actually pretty good, though,” Dean claimed.

“Should I ask Sam about that?” Cas queried.

“Um….”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Cas smiled at Dean. “Do you have homework to do tonight?”

“Nah, I wrote in my journal this afternoon.” They paused outside Dean’s room.

Cas yawned and stretched.

“Tired, Cas?” Dean asked, amused.

“I do not sleep, as you know, Dean.” Cas winked. “But I am _extremely_ old. And my grace _is_ still regenerating. So, if anyone was entitled to claim that perhaps a rest period would be a good thing, I believe it would be _me_.”

“I suppose that’s true. Well, I’ll let you rest, then, Cas.”

“Well. I might require _assistance_ , Dean.”

“In what way, Cas?”

“I’m not sure that someone as old as I am should be untying their own shoes. It’s an _awfully_ long stretch.” Cas’ eyes twinkled at Dean.

“It is, Cas, that’s true. So, just the shoes, then?”

“Well, I might find that it’s taxing to remove other articles of clothing, Dean. Perhaps you should stick around. Make sure that I don’t _injure_ myself. Being so old, and all.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “All right, Cas. I’ll help you. You just relax.”

Cas turned toward the door to Dean’s room, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Get in there, old man.” Dean came up close behind him, his amused breath hot in Cas’ ear.

They both pushed through the door, and Dean shut it behind them…and turned the lock.

Cas turned, and Dean suddenly found himself pushed back against the door, an angel fastened to his face. Dean’s hands came up, and brushed up under Jimmy’s old suit jacket and shirt, finding Cas’ skin briefly.

“Cas, I swear, I’m taking you shopping and getting you some decent clothes. These are so worn it’s surprising they don’t fall apart when you put them on.”

“Right now, I’d settle for getting them off.” Cas grinned.

Dean skimmed the trench coat off Cas’ shoulders. “That’s the last time with that ratty old thing. We’re getting you a decent winter coat.”

“Dean. Shut up about the coat.”

“Right.” Dean nodded. “Not important. Got it.”

Their lips crashed into one another again. Cas ran his arms around Dean’s waist, under Dean’s leather jacket. Dean squirmed closer, and bent his head slightly to rub his lips along Cas’ neck gently. Cas turned his head, giving Dean better access.

Dean stilled, and whispered something into Cas’ neck.

“Hmm?” Cas asked.

“ _Want_.”

“Want what?”

“ _This. **You**. Everything. Not to screw this up. Not to be so damn **scared**_.” Dean rested his forehead on Cas’ shoulder.

“Dean, you _have_ me. It’s okay. I’m _here_. I’m right here.”

“Cas… I….”

“You want to stop?”

“Yes. No. I don’t _know_.” Dean cursed his own indecision and insecurity. “You are _everything_ I’ve ever wanted, and _never_ believed I could have. And we’re doing really well, and it’s all been going just _exactly_ the way I want it to, and that just entirely _fucks me up_ , Cas. I’m _terrified_. That I’ll say something _awful_. That I won’t be _enough_. That you’ll _leave_. And if we… did what I think we were probably about to do, and _then_ you left…. Cas, I… couldn’t deal with that. And that tells me that, as good as this is, and as much as I so desperately want it… and you… I’m just not _ready_.”

Cas nodded. “That’s okay, Dean. Let’s try something else instead. C’mere.”

Cas took Dean’s hand and tugged him over to the bed. “Sit next to me, Dean?”

They sat down on the edge of the bed. Cas leaned toward Dean, and Dean leaned in toward Cas.

“Concentrate on your breathing, Dean. Tell me when you feel comfortable again.”

They sat there quietly for a while. “Okay.”

“Okay? You’re all right now? Calm? Steady?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s try just taking things really slowly for now. Get used to each other one step at a time, rather than trying to jump into anything, okay? Why don’t you get ready for bed, Dean? I’ll go and do the same, and when we’re in our pjs, we’ll meet back here, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Cas got up, went and unlocked the door, and slipped out.

Dean took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“ _Fuck_.”

***

Jody poured herself a cup of coffee, and leaned back against the kitchen counter to sip it. Claire came in, and headed for a clean mug for her own cup. Having obtained it, Claire seated herself at the kitchen table.

“Tomorrow, huh?”

“Yup.”

“You want me here for it, or you want me to take off for a couple of days?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you here, Claire?”

“Social worker’s gonna be here. Wasn’t sure you’d want me around for the interview. I mean, I know she knows that I exist, but Jodes, even _you’ve_ gotta admit, I have…rough edges. They might not want a kid around me, if I’m here for those edges to show.”

“Oh, sweetie. Your rough edges got blunted a long long time ago. There’s nothing about you now that says that you’d be dangerous to a four-year-old. Plus, you’re a part of the household, the family, you’ll be helping with her care. They’re gonna want to see you. Your absence could actually be worse. Just…maybe don’t say that you _hunt monsters_. If they ask what you do for a living, just tell them you’re independently wealthy. It’s actually _true_.” Jody winked.

Claire snorted. “I suppose it is. Thanks, _Dad_ , wherever you are, for having had the sense to have _good insurance_ , even if you _were_ dumb enough to pray to be an _angel’s vessel_.” Claire held up her coffee mug in a mock salute to her late father.

“You miss him? Jimmy?” Jody asked.

Claire shrugged. “Maybe. Sometimes. I mean, he actually died back in 2009, and he’d been Cas’ vessel for a couple of years before that. I hardly remember him _as him_. I’ve lived more than half my life without him _as him_. For most of my life, Cas has been using his body. Just… now and again, I get this sense of having been safe, and loved. I can vaguely remember him reading to me, or picking me up and tossing me into the air, then catching me and giving me a hug. I mean, I know _Cas_ never did that, so that had to be _Jimmy_ , right?” She sighed. “Hard to miss what you can’t remember clearly.

“And maybe that’s why I want to help you with Amy. Maybe if we give her enough good memories, she won’t remember her own family clearly enough to miss them.”

Claire set her empty mug down, and left the room.

Jody sighed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's still making progress. It's good to know your own limitations, and when you're not ready for something yet. Temporary setbacks are to be expected. ;)
> 
> My own parents divorced when I was 6, and I didn't see my dad again until I was 9. We had kind of a strained relationship. When he died in 1999, my mom asked what I was feeling on the way to the funeral, and I shrugged. "Hard to miss what you never had." Claire's feeling much the same way, here. Jimmy died when she was about 10, and while she never forgot him, it's hard for her to remember him as Jimmy, not Cas.
> 
> Comments??? :)


	65. Just One New Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas try just one new thing.

Dean returned to his room, showered, teeth brushed, wearing his pjs, and found that he was alone. Cas had yet to return.

He shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. Just as he sat down, Cas knocked gently on the door.

“You don’t have to knock, Cas.” Dean smiled.

“Should I lock it?” Cas asked.

“Probably. _Gabriel is in residence_.”

“Good point.” Cas locked the door, then padded over to sit down next to Dean. “Comfy?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, actually.”

“Good.”

“What did you want to try, Cas? You said we’d try something _different_.”

“I think we should just get used to each other again. You’ve been my best friend, and I’ve been yours, for a really long time. And we’re still best friends, but now, we’re also _more_ , but we’ve never been _more_ before. So, neither of us is sure of how to _be_ more. And that’s what we need to take slowly, and that’s what we were rushing, earlier. The _more_. So, we slow down the _more,_ and get used to being best friends, _and more_ , at our own pace.”

“Cas, that makes sense, but man, our usual pace is fucking _glacial_. I dunno if I wanna wait that long.” Dean smirked.

“We don’t have to take _eleven years_ , Dean.” Cas grinned. “But maybe just for tonight, we try just one new thing that we haven’t done before. You pick.”

“Well, let’s see. We’ve kissed now, so _that’s_ not new. And we cuddled during movie nights before, and we did that again the other night, so _that’s_ not new, either. We’ve always hugged, so _that’s_ not new. Cas, I… I’m not sure I can think of _anything_ that’s both _more_ , and _new_ , and at the same time, _**not** too much_.”

“Well, we’ve never actually slept in the same bed. I’ve watched over you while you slept, but that’s not the same thing. Sometimes, just actually _sleeping_ , without more, is one of the most intimate things two people can do, so, it’s _more_ , and it’s _new_ , but it’s still just _sleeping_. How about that, Dean? Or would that be _too much_?”

Dean considered it. “So, just… being in the same bed? Without _touching_?”

“If you’re okay with it, I’m okay with snuggling. Up to you, Dean.” Cas shrugged.

“So, sleeping, snuggling, in the same bed, but the pjs stay on, so it’s _just_ sleep?”

“Right. Is that okay? _Too much? Not enough?_ ” Cas tilted his head to the right.

“I think that might be _perfect.”_ Dean smiled. He took Cas’ hand.

Cas squeezed gently, and smiled softly back.

Dean stood and went to the closet, pulling out an extra pillow. “I usually only have just the one pillow on the bed, but….” He trailed off, then tried again. “Um…which side of the bed d’you want?”

Cas shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. Which side do you usually sleep on?”

“Nearest the door.”

Cas nodded. “Okay.” He moved to the other side, taking the pillow from Dean as he went past. He sat on the opposite edge, put the pillow in place, then laid down and folded his arms on his chest.

Dean turned out the lights, leaving on just the bedside lamp that he used as a dim nightlight, then went to “his” side of the bed, and laid down. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then rolled toward Cas.

Cas rolled toward him, and they met in the middle, and they were suddenly kissing again, not touching except at the lips – but the lips were locked on like homing beacons.

Dean pulled back to breathe. “ _How_ …?”

“Hmm?”

“ _ **How** did we **not** do **that** for **eleven years**?_”

Cas chuckled quietly, then reached out and gently rubbed his hand up and down Dean’s arm comfortingly. Dean reached out and rested his hand on Cas’ hip, above the flannel of the pjs. Cas scooted a little closer, and Dean’s hand slid up under the pj shirt, finding Cas’ skin again.

“Is this okay, Cas?” he whispered.

“Whatever you want is fine with me, Dean,” Cas assured him. “As little or as much as you want.”

Dean’s hand got a little braver, on an expedition to map out Cas’ side by touch, a finger barely tracing over the skin, the muscle beneath, the bones. He thought he could count each rib, and realized again just how close to being human Cas had come, through burning both ends against the middle, trying to do too much, because he had pushed Cas too far. He bit back a choked sob, but Cas heard anyway.

Cas whispered reassurance, and reached to slide his hand gently up against Dean’s cheek, then sliding back to card gently through Dean’s hair.

“Cas? I know we said pjs would stay on, but… would you take your shirt off?” Dean asked, hesitating.

Cas sat up long enough to pull off the pj shirt, and laid right back down. He tossed the shirt on the floor. “How about you? Are you comfortable enough to take yours off, Dean?”

Dean nodded in the dim light. He sat up, pulled his shirt off, and tossed it on the floor to join Cas’, then laid back down.

“May I?” Cas asked, waiting for Dean to nod again before slowly sliding his own hand up Dean’s side, then over his arm, coming to rest on his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb in small circles, but otherwise didn’t move again, yet.

Dean’s hand came back to Cas’ hip, and rested there, just above the waistline of the pj pants, gently caressing. Dean scooted a tiny bit closer, and leaned his head forward to catch Cas’ lips with his own again, softly, hesitantly. Cas leaned into the kiss, and Dean moaned softly into Cas’ mouth.

Cas smiled and kissed Dean gently again, then rolled away. Dean started to whimper at the loss of contact, but then Cas scooted back, and pressed his back against Dean’s chest.

Cas looked back over his shoulder at Dean, and whispered, “Come and snuggle, Dean.” He reached back and found Dean’s hand, and drew it forward, over and around him, pulling Dean closer.

Cas whispered, “Now, _go to sleep_ , Dean,” and closed his eyes.

And then, Dean realized: _Cas was really in his arms_. He wasn’t leaving. He was _there_ , he was _safe_. _He was voluntarily snuggled up against Dean_. Everything was good. He could _trust_ it. He could _have_ it. It was _perfect_ , it was what he _wanted_ , and it was _his_. He wasn’t going to wake from a dream, screaming, to find Cas gone. _This was real_. No one would take it from him, no one was going to snatch Cas away from him in the night. No one was going to yell at him, no one was going to think less of him for wanting it, for taking it, for trusting in it. _He could relax. It was okay. Everything was good. So, **so** good_.

He leaned forward and kissed Cas’ neck softly, then snuggled in, and closed his own eyes on a contented sigh. He fell asleep in moments, resting comfortably with his angel.

And now that light in his soul was ablaze, a warming, giving fire; contained, but generous; battling back the shadows, and finally winning.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROGRESS! Cas keeping promises is kinda hot. ;)
> 
> And that light! Oooh, that light. Keep an eye on it! :)
> 
> Comments????? :D


	66. Welcome to the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a clarification from Gabriel. Jody gets approved to be Amy's foster mother.

Dean woke early, arms still wrapped around Cas’ still-sleeping form. He smiled softly, and just lay quietly, holding his angel.

_This is real. I wasn’t dreaming. I really get to have this._

Eventually, though, there were a few things he deemed necessary enough to pull him from the bed. He needed the bathroom, he needed coffee, and he wanted to write in his journal. In that order.

So, he leaned down and kissed Cas’ cheek softly, then drew back carefully, got up, draped a blanket over Cas, and moved quietly to the door. He unlocked it, then looked back fondly at the still-sleeping angel. Then he headed toward the bathroom.

He made it exactly five steps, then stopped dead in his tracks. 

_Wait. “Still-sleeping angel” is a contradiction in terms. Cas doesn’t sleep unless he’s human, but his grace is fully regenerated._

He shook it off, and continued on to the bathroom. Did what he needed to do. Brushed his teeth again. Headed for the kitchen, found a fresh pot made, 2 cups down.

_So, Sam’s running. And Gabriel’s around._

He got out a mug, doctored his coffee, and went in search of the Archangel. He found Gabriel in the library, doing something with Sam’s laptop, an empty mug sitting next to it on the table.

“He know you’re using that thing?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Dean hesitated. “Gabe?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Can I ask you something? About angels?”

Gabriel looked up. “Is this about a specific angel? Perhaps a certain _seraph_?”

“Well, kinda, but it’s a general question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

Dean sat down in the chair next to Gabe’s, and leaned forward. “Do you guys ever _sleep_? When your grace is at full strength, I mean?”

Gabriel lounged back in his chair, and considered his response. “We _can_. We generally _don’t_ ; we don’t _have_ to, if we’re at full strength. But it’s an option. Particularly if we’ve been through a lot, or are expecting to have to go through a lot, sometimes we sleep a lot. Resting helps to regenerate grace.

“Let me guess: Cas told you he doesn’t sleep unless he’s burned through so much grace he’s nearly human, but then fell asleep.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, Sam was catching me up last night, and it sounds like Cas has been through a lot. And with Dad still here, and The Empty waking us and sending us back to help, it sounds like he’s anticipating having to go through even more. So, if he fell asleep last night? I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably just resting up, not because he has to, but just because he _can_.”

“Okay. Thanks, Gabe.”

Gabriel peered up at Dean. “You were actually _worried_. You really _love_ him, don’t you, Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I do. I think I probably always have, just couldn’t admit it. You gonna give me shit about it?”

“Nope. Anyone who has the guts to take a chance on love has my respect, Dean. We’ve had our rough spots, you and I, but honestly, I’ve always admired your strength. You’re a good man. And you and Cas are good together.

"So, no. No shit from me, Dean-o. I mean, I’ll still laugh at you from time to time….”

“Of course.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Gabe grinned. “But I’m serious as a heart attack when I say this, Dean: _welcome to the family_. You take good care of my brother. Out of all of us, I think Cassie’s the best.”

“Um, if Sam’s been catching you up, then you know what happened with Michael.”

“Yeah, well. First of all, _that_ wasn’t my brother, that was the guy from that alternate universe. Secondly, that douchebag killed _me_ , he had it coming. Third, if anything, you guys were all acting in self-defense. You in particular. Once you retracted consent, Michael had no business continuing to use you as a vessel; he should have cleared out for good. So, yeah, I’m not holding anything against you with regard to Michael, Dean. No worries.

"Have you forgiven me, yet?”

“Oh, for _Mystery Spot?_ Yeah. Long time ago. I mean, just because _you killed me every day for nearly 120 days_ , why would I hold that against you?” Dean grinned, then shook his head. “No, Gabe, I mean it. I forgave you a long time ago.”

“So, we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

“Good. Because Sam hired me.”

Gabe grinned.

***

Thursday morning at 11:00, Jody wearily shut the door behind the departing social worker, and sagged against it. Claire tip-toed out of the kitchen.

“Is it over? Is she _gone_?” Claire whispered.

“Yes,” Jody whispered back.

“Then why the fuck are we whispering?” Claire laughed.

“Heh. Oh, goodness. Well, I think we did it. I think we convinced Cruella there to let me have at least temporary custody of Amy, so we can bring her home here as soon as she’s released from the hospital.”

“Oh!” Claire said, in a disappointed tone. “Shit, I guess that means movie night with Donna is off for this weekend, then, huh?”

“No! We _have_ to do that. Alex wasn’t going to come with us anyway, she can take care of Amy.”

“What if she has to work, though?”

“Well, if she has to work seven days straight, it’d be because the ‘epidemic’ isn’t over, and the kids aren’t recovering, and if that was the case, Amy wouldn’t be coming home from the hospital yet. But no, I can’t ask Alex to do that. She’s _exhausted_. Well, _dammit_.”

“Maybe Donna could come _here_? We could ask her, at least,” Claire suggested. 

“All right. I’ll call her.” Jody pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

“I wanna give her her check anyway.” Claire grinned.

“Heya, Jody, what’s up?” Donna answered.

“Hey, Donna. We were wondering. Do you think it’d be possible for _you_ to come _here_ this weekend, instead of us coming to you for movie night?” Jody asked.

“Well, I suppose I could. I haven’t had a road trip in a while. Something goin’ on there, Jody?”

“Nothing serious, just, um, getting a four-year-old foster soon, maybe this week, can’t really travel just now.”

“A _four-year-old,_ Jody? Because two _adult_ foster daughters isn’t _enough_ for ya, hon?” Donna giggled.

“Just come, I’ll explain when you get here on Friday.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll drive up after work. Should be there by nine; if something happens and it’s gonna be later, I’ll give ya a holler.”

They ended the call. No sooner than Jody pushed click to end, her phone rang again.

“Sheriff Mills… Yes… All right… Yes, I understand. Thank you… Okay, I’ll be there at ten… Thank you, again. Bye.” She ended the call.

“Who was that?” Claire asked.

“That was the hospital administrator. The social worker just called and confirmed that I’m to be added to Amy’s paperwork as her temporary legal guardian, and the doctor says she can come home tomorrow, so they want me to be there at ten in the morning to pick her up.”

Claire squealed. “Jody, we need to go shopping. _Right. Fucking. Now_.”

“Holy shit!”

“I’m buying!”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Dean's quite realized that if he marries Cas, God is his father-in-law and Satan's his brother-in-law? Heh. 
> 
> More progress - Dean didn't get angry, turn around, and demand answers from Cas
> 
> And now Jody gets to toddler-proof the house! ;)
> 
> Comments?? :D


	67. Reflections On The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean journals.

Dean went back to the kitchen and got a refill on coffee, then went back to his room. Cas was still sound asleep, and he didn’t want to wake him.

_If he needs the rest that much, he should have it._

Dean got his notebook and his pen out, and sat down at his desk. He opened to a blank page, and uncapped his pen.

He looked back over his shoulder and watched Cas sleeping for a moment, smiling fondly.

Then he turned back to his journal, and started to write.

***

** _Thursday morning_ **

_**Cas is in my bed, asleep**. I could reach out, and touch him, but I want to let him rest. **But there he is**. And I am so **happy**. I don’t know if I’ve ever been **this** happy, ever. All we did, really, was sleep in the same bed, snuggled up against one another, but it was so fucking **perfect**. I realized that I could relax, trust in it, that it wasn’t going to be snatched from me. And damn, if that didn’t make me feel better than alcohol ever has. And when I woke up, he was still right there, in my arms. It’s really **real**. _

_But I’m starting at the end._

_Sam and I were talking yesterday, and he teased me, just a little, and I got snappish. And then I apologized, and said that this thing with Cas was just so **new**. And Sam said, “Dude, it’s been **eleven years**.” But it **hasn’t** been. I’ve **known** Cas that long, and yeah, probably at some level, I knew how **I felt about him** the entire time. But I didn’t know how **he felt** until last week. Sam seems to have been taking for granted that, this whole time, we each knew how the other felt, but if we had, we’d have been together a lot sooner. And when I pointed that out, Sam apologized._

_But then later, we were talking with Gabe, and Gabe said, “it’s about time,” like we’ve just been completely **obvious** to everyone about our feelings all along. So, now I have to wonder – **how fucking oblivious am I**, if everyone else knew how Cas felt about me, and **I just never saw it**? And the worst thing is that, looking back, I think Cas **did** know, but thought that I would be so uncomfortable being in a relationship with him that he just never said anything, assuming that I would reject him out of hand. Which means that I’m the jerk, here. **Just one more way that I’ve hurt Cas**._

_Cas learned that Lucifer’s … ghost, I guess? ... is in Sam’s brain. He’s been trying to research what Lucifer told him, that Lucifer was given a choice when he died, to go to The Empty, or to be put back into The Cage, but no one specified The Cage that’s actually in Hell, and somehow he knew there was a duplicate in Sam’s head, so he chose to go there, instead. But Cas’ contacts didn’t know anything, so he thought he’d try asking Amara. So, he took a chance, and he went to Reno to find her – and found that she’s with Chuck. And so then he called and left me a message, but then passed out – and when he came to, he learned that Gabe, and Jack, and about 300,000 other angels loyal to Cas had been awakened by The Cosmic Entity, and sent to help. The Entity wants Cas to “deal with God, so I don’t have to.” And, in exchange, The Entity released Cas from some deal Cas made with it – **which he still needs to tell me about** – and brought back the angels. So, Cas sent the rest of the angels up to power up Heaven, and brought Gabe and Jack here, to surprise me and Sam._

_And boy, did it. Sam passed out. I broke a glass, and I’m honestly surprised I didn’t end up joining Sam on the floor._

_Then Cas was telling us about all this, and then he said he needed to speak with just me and Sam. So Gabe and Jack went off on their own. And Cas explained that he hadn’t wanted to tell us what he’d learned until he could verify whether or not it was true, and that’s why he’d tried to seek out Amara. Apparently, Lucifer is a ‘memory with intent’ – no longer an Archangel, but more than a memory, he can interact with Sam in Sam’s dreams – and has been. And if Cas can find a way to excise the memories from Sam’s brain, he’ll cease to exist. Cas has done that kind of thing before – he erased me from the memories of Lisa and Ben. So he went to try to see Amara, to find out whether what Lucifer told him was true._

_And Cas told us all of this, and obviously he’d been working really hard to try to figure out what the truth was, and what he could do to solve the problem, so I said, “Good job, Cas.” And I meant it, he’d done a good job. And Cas looked so confused, and asked me why I wasn’t **angry** with him. And that just broke my heart, because I realized – **that would have been my reaction, before.**_

_Looking back now, I see that every time I snapped at Cas, when he was doing his best (which is a lot), I was making him feel useless and unworthy, and like I hated him – **when exactly the opposite is true.** So I made sure that, this time, I explained how I could see how he’d done everything right, told him that I trust his judgment – and I do, implicitly. And then I went to make a pot of coffee, but I was just in the next room, so I heard Cas tell Sam “ **that wasn’t what I was expecting**.” Again, heart breaking, because my reaction yesterday **should** be what Cas **always** expects, because it’s what he **deserves**. And the fact that he **doesn’t** expect it, expects me to be **angry** with him, just shows me how much damage I’ve done._

_**And yet, he’s still here**. And that gives me hope._

_I gave Cas his letters. And his reactions to what I wrote were just the **best**. Especially when he got to the end of the second letter, and told me again, “I love you, too.” He was crying, so I reached over and tried to wipe away the tears, and then it was like gravity just took over, and suddenly, I was kissing his cheek, and then the other, and then his lips. And just as I started to pull back, he sort of swooped in and kissed back. And it was **amazing**._

_And then the two of us went back and joined Sam, Gabe, and Jack, and that’s when we told Gabe that we’re together. Gabe said that I looked “almost happy” and asked “what gives?” and I said “Not much. Therapy. I quit drinking. Fell in love.” And Gabe asked when he’d get to “meet the lucky girl,” and Cas just leaned forward and said “That would be me,” and then grinned at me. And that’s when Gabe made the comment about how it was “about time.”_

_Later, I was putting leftovers away, and suggested that Jack and Cas and I go for a drive, so Jack could get more experience driving. Jack took the keys and ran for the garage. And then Cas pointed out that it would be late when we got back, so I suggested that he stay the night at the Bunker, and pointed out that he still had a room here – if he wanted it. And he got right away that I was asking him to stay in my room, but he made me confirm it, teasing me just a little, and I loved that he had the confidence to do that. It made me feel a little better._

_We went for a drive, and we’d been out on the road a while, and there was a diner, so we stopped to get pie and coffee. And Jack went off to the bathroom, and Cas and I were talking, and he said he wasn’t sure it was possible to excise all memory of Lucifer from Sam’s brain, simply because Lucifer features in so many cultural myths, legends, etc. If he excises all memory of Lucifer, and then Sam sees a movie on TV where Lucifer’s a central character, does that bring it all back? And I told Cas that if anyone can fix this problem, I have faith that it’s him, and if he can’t, it’s not because he didn’t try, or didn’t care enough about Sam. We’ll find a way, and it’s not all on him – we’re a team. And that made him relax a little, and that made me feel better, too._

_When we got back, Jack ran on ahead – he’s got so much energy. And then Cas yawned and stretched. And I asked if he was tired, and he said that he was so old, he thought he was entitled to a rest period. So I said I’d let him rest, and then he said he might need my assistance. First he said he might need help untying his shoes; then he said I should stick around to make sure that he didn’t injure himself while taking off the rest of his clothes. And of course, he wasn’t serious, he was laughing the whole time. And we walked into my room, and I closed and locked the door, and it was like the click of the lock was a switch that turned Cas on, and we were kissing, and he had me pushed up against the door, and it was **hot** , but he was wearing that awful old suit of Jimmy’s, and I kept getting distracted. I really do need to take Cas shopping for clothes, but I get why he didn’t want to talk about it right then._

_And then I was kissing Cas’ neck, and I suddenly got overwhelmed. And I told him. I said that I wanted this, I wanted him, wanted everything, but also wanted not to screw up, and not to be so damn scared. And suddenly, I was terrified. And I tried to explain, and I think he got it. I told him, “You are everything I’ve ever wanted, and never believed I could have. And we’re doing really well, and it’s all been going just exactly the way I want it to, and that just entirely fucks me up, Cas. I’m terrified. That I’ll say something awful. That I won’t be enough. That you’ll leave. And if we… did what I think we were probably about to do, and then you left…. Cas, I… couldn’t deal with that. And that tells me that, as good as this is, and as much as I so desperately want it… and you… I’m just not ready.”_

_I thought he’d be mad, but he just nodded, and said it was okay, we’d try something else. He sat next to me on the edge of the bed, and told me to just breathe until I felt comfortable again. And when I did, he suggested that we just go on our own and get ready for bed, and we’d meet back in my room when we were in our pjs. So we did that._

_When we got back, Cas locked the door, because Gabe was around. And then I asked him what he wanted to try, because he said he thought we should try something different, and I wasn’t sure what he meant. So he said that he thought “we should just get used to each other again. You’ve been my best friend, and I’ve been yours, for a really long time. And we’re still best friends, but now, we’re also more, but we’ve never been more before. So, neither of us is sure of how to be more. And that’s what we need to take slowly, and that’s what we were rushing, earlier. The more. So, we slow down the more, and get used to being best friends, and more, at our own pace.” And I said that made sense, but our pace has been fucking **glacial** and I didn’t want to wait that long._

_So he suggested that we try just one new thing that we hadn’t done before, and that I could pick what it should be. And I honestly couldn’t think of anything that was both new, and yet not too much. So he suggested we try just sleeping together, pjs on, snuggling if we felt up to it. He said that just sleeping together can be really intimate, and it would be more, and new, but still – just sleeping._

_And it was **perfect**. We did end up shirtless, and at one point we were kissing, and I thought it was going to go somewhere hotter, and it was starting to make me nervous again, even though it felt so **good**. But then Cas just rolled over, pushed back against me, and told me to “come and snuggle” with him. And he pulled me close, and wrapped my arm around him. And then he told me to go to sleep, and he closed his eyes._

_And I realized that he was really **there** , in my arms. He wasn’t leaving. He was there, he was safe. He was voluntarily snuggled up against me. Everything was good. I could trust it. I could have it. It was perfect, it was what I wanted, and it was mine. I wasn’t going to wake from a dream, screaming, to find that he was gone. It was real. No one would take it from me, no one was going to snatch him away from me in the night. No one was going to yell at me, no one was going to think less of me for wanting it, for taking it, for trusting in it. I could relax, and just enjoy it, because nothing was being demanded of me, except that I go to sleep. It was okay. Everything was good. So, **so** good._

_Best night’s sleep I think I’ve ever had, wrapped around an angel. **My** angel._

_And when I woke up, he was still there, still sleeping. And I got to lay there holding him, which sounds a little creeper-ish to say, but it was **just so fucking perfect**._

_Of course, I had to get up eventually. I needed to use the bathroom, and I needed coffee. And when I got out in the hall, I realized that Cas doesn’t usually sleep unless his grace is so low that he’s nearly human, but his grace is fully regenerated right now. And I **almost** freaked out, almost went in to wake him and demand answers. What wasn’t he telling me? Why wasn’t he taking care of himself? Etc._

_But I **didn’t**. I stopped myself. I went to the bathroom, I got coffee, and then I found Gabe. And I asked him if an angel could sleep with fully charged grace. And he said that they can, even at full strength, but they usually don’t, unless they’ve been through a lot recently, or are expecting to go through a lot soon – and that both of those were true of Cas, right now. He said I shouldn’t worry, and he could see that I **had been** worried – and that I really am in love with Cas._

_And then **Gabe welcomed me to the family** , said that I was a good man, and that Cas and I are good together. And he could have knocked me over with one of his feathers._

_I mean, Gabe’s always been the friendliest of the Archangels, but we’ve always kind of rubbed each other the wrong way, and I never thought he’d think I was good enough for Cas, especially when he says himself that he thinks Cas is the “best of us.” I mean, good enough to be Michael’s vessel, sure – Michael was always in charge. But as **myself** , as an entity in control of myself, **being good enough to be with Cas**? Never thought even Gabe would say that. Blew me away. Not quite as much as when Cas told me he was in love with me – but really fucking close to it._

_Oh, I think Cas is waking up. Time to go talk to my angel._

_**My angel**. I really fucking love saying that._

***

Dean capped his pen and put it and the notebook away, and turned toward the bed, where Cas was shifting slowly into awareness.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even Dean can see his own progress. ;)
> 
> Comments?? :D


	68. So, About This Deal...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas wakes up snuggly. Jody gets Amy from the hospital.

Dean moved over to the side of the bed and perched there. “Mornin’, starshine.”

Cas opened one eye, and looked up at him balefully. “You’ve had _coffee_ already, haven’t you?”

“Mmhmm, afraid so.”

“And you didn’t bring a cup for _me_?” Cas grumbled, and snuggled back down under the blanket.

“If I had, it’d be cold by now anyway, Cas. I’ve been writing in my journal for a while now.”

“And why am I snuggling with a _blanket_ , and not _you_?” Cas groused, muffled by the blanket.

“You had _me_ all night. It was the blanket’s turn.” Dean grinned.

Cas poked enough of his face out from behind the blanket again to glare at Dean. “Blanket’s turn, my….”

“Nah, nah. If you’re awake enough to be grumbling about having to make do with a blanket instead of me, you’re awake enough to tell me about this deal you made with The Cosmic Entity.”

“Oh. _That_.” Cas’ voice was very small and quiet.

“Yeah. _That_.” Dean adopted a stern expression.

“’s not important.”

“Tell me anyway, angel.”

“The Entity called it off! You heard what Gabe said!”

“Uh huh, I did. Tell me _anyway_. Humor me.”

Cas sighed. Then he reached up and grabbed Dean and pulled him down onto the bed next to him. “Fine, but I get to snuggle with you while I tell you.”

“Fair.” Dean snuggled closer.

“When Jack died the first time, he went to Heaven, and he hid out in his mother’s Heaven. He wanted to meet Kelly. When we were resurrecting him, I went to Heaven to get him. The Entity possessed Dumah. I believe that Dumah’s plan to subvert Jack to Heaven’s use was then absorbed by The Entity. The Entity sought to claim Jack and his powers, but I knew that The Entity already harbored a grudge against me, and it wanted me back. I thought that if I offered myself to The Entity _then_ , so it didn’t have to wait what could have been _millennia_ to get me back when I finally died, that it would release Jack. And it agreed. Except it didn’t take me, _then_. The Entity’s grudge was deeper than I had realized. It told me that it would wait until I was _happy_ , and _then_ it would come for me. And I figured that was okay, because I was unlikely to ever be happy, then.”

“Wait, you were just going to _sacri_ … and you didn’t tell me there even _was_ a deal, much less its terms, and… _Cas_!” Dean was both startled and outraged, as well as more than little bit hurt.

“It doesn’t matter, _now_ , Dean. The Entity called off the deal, and gave Jack back to us.”

“And I’m glad that’s the case, Cas, but, _c’mon!_ Look, I know you love Jack. I do, too. But to… and then not _say_ … Cas, what was _I_ supposed to do? If The Entity had just taken you, right then, how would I have ever known what happened to you? And you thought it was okay, because you didn’t think you’d be _happy_? What the…? **_Cas!_** _”_

“Dean, I love you. I’ve loved you a long time. And until just a few days ago, I had no idea that you returned those feelings. I wasn’t likely to be _happy_ , because as far as I could tell, then, I was never going to be with _you_.”

“But… But….” Dean continued to sputter for a moment, until he realized what Cas was saying. “So… _wait_. You’re saying that you thought you were safe from The Entity, because you were never going to be happy without me, and didn’t think there was a chance that you could actually have me?”

Cas nodded.

“But Cas, you told me you were in love with me **_last week_.** You only found out that The Entity called off the deal **_yesterday_**!”

“When I told you I was in love with you, I had no expectation that you were going to say it back, Dean. I was just too tired and heartsick and worried about you to keep it in any longer. If your drinking killed you, I certainly would never have a chance at happiness, would I?”

“Well… but I _did_ say it back, Cas. Any time between Saturday night and yesterday afternoon, The Entity could have taken you. And I wouldn’t have known what happened, or why.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Even after you said it back, I was glad to hear it, of course, but I wouldn’t have said that I was happy, yet. Not then.”

“And _now_?”

“Well, now, I’d say that I’m…happier. Closer to truly happy than I’ve probably ever been. Of course, I’d be _happier_ with a cup of _coffee_ ….”

Dean hit Cas with a pillow. Cas giggled.

“Dean, it doesn’t _matter_. The deal is off. We got Jack back, and I’m still here. And we’re together.”

“Yeah. Okay. Still not happy that you just somehow _never even **mentioned**_ this deal.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“But I’m glad you’re still here, and that the deal is off, and that Jack is back, and Gabe. Oh, by the way, I spoke with Gabe this morning.”

“Oh?”

“I was a little concerned that you were sleeping when fully charged, but he said that I shouldn’t worry, you were probably just gearing up to deal with Chuck, and whatever else. And then he said, ‘ _welcome to the family_.’”

“He said that? Just like that? ‘ _Welcome to the family_ ’?” Cas’ head tilted to the right.

“Yeah. He said that you and I were good together, and he trusted me to take care of you. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather, Cas, I swear. Oh, he also said that you’re ‘ _the best of us_.’ And apparently, Sam _hired_ him to do something, I dunno what.”

“I need coffee, Dean. I can’t be expected to handle talking about my brother without caffeine. Especially if he’s saying nice things about _both of us_.”

“Yeah, I get that. Okay, you get up and get moving, and I’ll go make a fresh pot for you.”

Dean started to get up, but Cas tugged him back down. “Or you could just stop talking about Gabe, and we could snuggle a little more.”

“Oh. Well. That sounds reasonable.”

***

Jody stopped at Alex’s nurse’s station to check in. The ‘epidemic’ was largely over, although two or three of the later kids were still on IV antibiotics.

“Hey, how’s my favorite nurse this morning?”

Alex gave her a baleful stare. “ _Uncaffeinated_. I don’t get a break for another half-hour.”

“You want me to do a coffee run, before we sign Amy out? I could go down to the cafeteria quick,” Jody offered.

“Nah, I’ll survive. They hired a bunch of new nurses, they start Monday. Of course, once the ‘epidemic’ is over, _now_ we get help.”

“Of course.” Jody nodded. “So, what does Amy know?”

“She knows that Emily is gone. She hasn’t asked any questions about it, just seemed relieved. Julie’s been avoiding her room. Amy knows that you’re coming, but I didn’t tell her she would be going home with you.”

“Well, let’s go do that now, then.”

They headed in to Amy’s room together, and Alex went straight to the bedside, checking that everything was disconnected.

“Good morning, Amy. How’s my favorite patient?” Alex asked.

“I’m okay, Nurse Alex.”

“Yeah? Good. Hey, you remember Jody, right?”

“Yes. Hello.”

“Hi, Amy. So, I have some questions for you.”

“Okay.”

“You know that Emily is gone, right?”

“Yes. What about my real mom and dad, and my sister?”

“I looked into it, Amy. I’m sorry, honey, but they all died in a car crash. You were thrown from the car, and Emily found you, and took you.”

Amy looked sad, but resigned. “So, now what happens to _me_?” Her voice wavered a little.

“Well, that’s my next question. How would you like to come to my house, and stay with me, and Nurse Alex, and my other foster daughter, Claire?”

“For how long?”

“Well, for as long as you’re happy with us, I guess. Because your parents are gone, you need a foster parent. And the state has approved me to be your foster parent. And I can take you home today, right now, in fact. Would that be okay with you, Amy?”

Amy nodded.

“I know you’re sad about your parents and your sister. But Claire, Alex, and I will take really good care of you. And we have some friends that you’ll meet, and they’ll help take care of you, too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Then what do you say you and I clear out of here, and let Alex do her job, and she’ll see you tonight at the house?”

Alex smiled, and said, “Welcome to our family, Amy.”

And at that, Amy gave a shy smile to both of them.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decaf Cas is cute, isn't he? ;)
> 
> Comments??
> 
> BTW, I have to drive 2 1/2 hours to make a speech, and then another 2 1/2 hours home, today. So, this may be the only update for today. I'll see if I can maybe do something more this evening. Just wanted to be sure my little addicts knew they might have to go without a fix for a while. Sorry! ;)


	69. Letter Writing Campaign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes more letters.

Dean had written in his journal already that morning, but he had yet to write a letter today, so he was back at his desk, notebook open to an empty page, pen uncapped.

***

_Dear Dad,_

_Turns out that most of what I thought I knew about you was fake, implanted by Alastair in Hell. Makes it hard to keep hating you, to keep being so angry at you._

_Except that the one constant on which everyone agrees is that **you were a neglectful son of a bitch**. You made me a parent at the age of four, forced me to raise Sam because you couldn’t be bothered, because your revenge was too important to you, so important that you were willing to abandon your own children – us – for days, even weeks, at a time. If it hadn’t been for me, Sam would have starved, or ended up on the streets, or dead. If it hadn’t been for me, Sam would never have gone to school. The fight the two of you had about Sam going to Stanford? Wouldn’t have happened, but for me, and my making sure that Sam always did his homework, got to school on time, had a lunch to eat._

**_So, yeah, I’m still angry._ **

_**What about me, Dad?** While I was taking care of **Sam** , who was supposed to take care of **me**? Who was supposed to make sure that **I** got to school on time, did **my** homework, had a lunch to eat?_

_Everyone always credits Sam with being smart, and God knows, he is. **But what about me?** High school drop out, got my GED, never even went to trade school, much less college, because you and hunting and revenge had to be more important. But Mia, my therapist – **yeah, Dad, that’s right, your son’s in therapy, and he likes it** – says that she thinks that tests would show that **I’m every bit as smart as Sam** , that if I had ever been **allowed** to be good at school, I would have been. But all my worrying, about Sam, about where you were, about whether I could make the money last, the food be enough, about whether today was the day I would pass out from hunger because I had to make sure Sam got fed, even if I didn’t – that was all a **distraction** that kept me from doing my best in school, that made sure that I wasn’t listening when the teacher was asking a question or giving a lecture. I had more important things on my mind. I was too busy trying to make sure Sam and I stayed **alive**. And that’s on you, Dad._

_**So, yeah, I’m still angry**._

_I’ve been so angry for so long that I couldn’t keep it in. It bubbled up constantly, and it’s affected every potential relationship I’ve ever had. I almost lost the one person I couldn’t bear to live without because of it. But you know what, Dad? **I got help.** And I found out that expressing my feelings won’t kill me, doesn’t make me weak. In fact, it makes me stronger. And I’m letting go of that anger. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I’m better off without it._

_I’m in love, Dad. With Cas. An Angel of the Lord permanently in a male vessel. And he’s in love with me. We’re together, and that makes me stronger._

_I don’t know whether you would have liked this relationship, or not. My memories of you say that you wouldn’t, but I know those memories are flawed. If you weren’t the homophobic asshole that I remember, then I apologize. But even if you wouldn’t have liked it a bit, Dad – I don’t care. **This is mine, and you don’t get to take it from me.**_

_**For a long time, I thought I loved you.** I built you up in my mind as a hero, someone to emulate, someone of whom I was proud, an icon. But you **abandoned** us, Dad. You were a **drunk** , and even if you never laid a finger on me, **you neglected us to the point of abuse**._

_**For a long time, I thought I hated you**. I thought you had beaten me, abused me physically, yelled at me, blamed me for Mom’s death, were a homophobic, feelings-phobic, angry son of a bitch. But I’ve come to find out that a lot of those memories of you were false, implanted by a minion of Hell. And there’s the small matter of you dying, making a deal with Azazel, to save my life. Apparently, I mattered to you after all._

_**Now, I just don’t care**. Good, bad, it doesn’t matter. You’re gone, you’re not coming back, and, by all accounts, you’re happy with Mom in Heaven. Good for you. Have a nice eternity._

**_Fuck you, Dad._ **

_I love you._

_Dammit._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Bobby,_

_**Thank you.** You took us in, you gave us shelter, food, structure, and love. You were gruff, but never harsh, and always fair. You didn’t play favorites, you didn’t try to make me into a mini-adult with more responsibility than I could handle, you treated me with respect, you were kind, and you made me feel like I mattered._

_I have nothing to resolve with you. No issues, no bad feelings. You were a constant force for good in my life._

_I recently learned that you left everything to me and Sam. I want to try to make the Salvage Yard a going concern again. It will always be Singer’s._

_I miss you._

_I love you._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Lisa,_

_I can’t send this to you, but I wish I could. There are so many things I want to say, that I should have said a long time ago. “I’m sorry” being first among them. I’m sorry that I made you and Ben unhappy. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me. I’m sorry that my being in your lives made you unsafe._

_Just so you know, I cried, walking away from you in that hospital. Leaving you and Ben behind was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I will likely always regret it. But I still believe it was the right thing to do, and that you’re better off without me._

_I secretly check up on you now and then, in ways that don’t let you know that you’re being checked on. That “inheritance” from the relative you didn’t know existed? That’s because she didn’t – that money was from me. You were going through a rough patch, and I couldn’t stand it; I had to help, but I couldn’t let you know. I know you denied it, but I still think Ben was really my kid. Even if not, I love him as if he were, and I miss him. It’s almost time for him to start college, so you may be getting another “inheritance” soon._

_I love you, Lis. I wanted to be in love with you. I thought I was. I tried to be. But I just couldn’t make it work. I think now that I know why – I was, I am, in love with someone else. He and I are together now, finally, and I’m happy. I hope that you are happy, too._

_I have nothing to resolve with you. No issues, no bad feelings. You were a constant force for good in my life. I just wish that I could have been the same for you. I can’t regret the time we shared, but I regret that you were hurt by it, by me._

_Goodbye, Lisa._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Mom,_

_I miss you. I wish you were here. I think you’d be pleased with me, with the progress I’m finally making. I’m in therapy, Mom, finally getting help with my anger issues. I’m trying to quit drinking, I’ve admitted that I’m an alcoholic, and I’m trying to stay sober. And I finally admitted that I’m in love with Cas, and he finally admitted that he’s in love with me, and we’re together, now, Mom. Sorry you won’t be getting any grandbabies from me, but I know you’d be happy for us anyway._

_I had a lot of abandonment issues, Mom. I resolved most of the ones that resulted from you dying when I was four when Amara brought you back. I just wanted to be sure to tell you that I don’t blame you anymore. Your death wasn’t your fault. Yes, you made a deal with Azazel, but that was for Dad’s life, and if you hadn’t made it, Sam and I wouldn’t exist. Yes, you got up and went to check on Sam, and Azazel killed you because you interrupted him, but that’s on him, not you. I can’t keep blaming you for things you didn’t do, and for things you could never have expected to happen. What Azazel did – to you, to Sam – that wasn’t your fault, it was Azazel. Not you. I’m sorry, Mom, that I blamed you for that._

_When Amara brought you back, I should have just been grateful to have you, and, instead, I gave you such a hard time. Of course you needed time and space to think about your relationship with us. You knew us last as a toddler and a baby, and the next thing you knew, we were grown men, who didn’t need coddling and the crusts cut off. You needed to adjust to that, and I got angry. **I was an idiot, Mom. I’m sorry.**_

_I love you, Mom._

_Always,_

_Dean_

***

Dean capped his pen, put his pen and notebook away, and went to look for Cas. He wanted a hug. And more coffee.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, so much progress!!!! Yay, Dean!!
> 
> Comments, please?? :)


	70. The Color of One's Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas explains the REM cycle situation to Sam and Dean. Sam explains the Gabriel employment situation to Dean and Cas. Cas notices something about Dean, and asks Gabe about it later. Jody brings Amy home. Jody calls Dean.

Around 1:00, Sam found Dean and Cas in the kitchen, having lunch. There was a platter of sandwiches on the table, but he had a hankering for a salad, so he went to the refrigerator and started rummaging in the veggie drawer. He pulled out what he needed, and started making a salad. In the midst of pulling apart lettuce, he remembered that he had a question for Cas.

“Hey, Cas? Did you turn my REM cycle back on? I had a dream the other night. Dean left you a voice mail about it.”

“Oh, yes, he did, I forgot; I’m sorry, Sam. Yes, and no. I don’t want you not to dream at all, Sam; humans’ mental health can be endangered if they go too long without a full REM cycle. But I don’t want to risk you having nightmares where Lucifer and Michael torture you, either. I can prevent it, so I did. I turned your REM cycle on night before last, so I could monitor a dream for you, so you could dream safely, then turned it back off. It was off last night; you didn’t dream last night, correct?” Cas tilted his head to the right, peering up at Sam.

“No, I didn’t. Okay, that makes sense,” Sam acknowledged.

“You can probably go safely for two-to-three days without a REM cycle. So, every couple of nights, I can turn it on, monitor your dreamworld, steer you away from dangerous spots in your head, and then turn it back off again, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, Cas. Thanks. I was just wondering why I’d had a dream, and now I know.” Sam smiled.

“By the way, Sam,” Dean said, “Gabe told me that you’d _hired_ him? For what, exactly?”

“I told him that I was looking to hire a research assistant, and he volunteered, pointed out that he knows the lore, knows Heaven, helped write most of the books we use, including the Bible. But I couldn’t see him doing the filing and data entry, and all the boring stuff I need to have done. So, I told him I couldn’t hire him to be a research assistant, and his face fell. So, I said his title would be “senior researcher” instead. He agreed to work for room and board.” Sam grinned. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I was just wondering what you were planning to have him do. But yeah, helping you with research sounds right up Gabe’s alley.”

“Do _I_ need a title?” Cas wondered.

“Sure, Cas. You’re ‘chief badass’.” Dean grinned at him.

Cas blushed. “I don’t know if that fits, Dean.”

“Hey, you’re the one with 300,000 angels loyal to you, Garrison Commander Castiel,” Dean pointed out. “I think ‘chief badass’ fits you just fine.”

Sam brought his salad over to the table and sat down with them. “Yeah, Cas. I agree with Dean. You’ve always been pretty badass. But no, you don’t _need_ a title. Neither does Gabe, really. You’re both family. I really just gave Gabe a title because he looked so crestfallen when I said that I couldn’t hire him to do a job that’s just basic clerical work that would bore him to tears. I mean, Dean and I, we don’t have titles.”

“Well, no, but you’re Hunters,” Cas pointed out.

“So are you, Cas,” Dean told him. “You’ve earned that a thousand times over.”

Sam nodded. “He’s right, Cas.”

Cas grinned. Dean smiled softly back at him.

And that light; oh, that light surged again, so brightly it made Cas close his eyes momentarily. And when he opened them again, it seemed to him that Dean was glowing. But, he realized, neither Sam nor Dean could see it.

He took Dean’s hand for a moment. Dean grinned, giving the gesture another meaning (with which Cas was also fine), but Cas’ true intention was simply to examine Dean’s soul. It had always shone, but before it had seemed to him to have a greenish cast, which had always reminded him of Dean’s eyes. Now that was gone, and the light seemed brighter, and to be mostly white in color, with tiny flecks of blue, almost the inverse of an angel’s grace (which, when healthy, was blue, with tiny flecks of white). Not knowing quite what to make of that, and not wanting to alarm Sam and Dean, Cas simply gave Dean’s hand a fond squeeze, and let it go.

***

Cas found Gabe in the library later that evening. The Archangel was translating an old book that Sam had been having trouble with for a while, but he set it aside when his brother came in.

“Hey, Cassie.”

“Gabriel. Dean told me _you welcomed him to the family_.” Cas tilted his head slightly, and looked at Gabriel inquisitively.

“Well? You two are _together_ , right? I approve. Who’s going to object? Dad? _Who cares?_ Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael are dead. The angels in Heaven now are those loyal to you. They won’t care, as long as you’re happy. Jack? Jack’s over the moon that you two are getting along, and that Dean let him drive Baby, he wouldn’t shut up about it. Does he realize what’s going on between you? Maybe not quite, but he certainly won’t object to it. Sam’s fine with it. Dean’s parents are in Heaven, happy together, or so Sam told me you had discovered a while back. They’re not going to object. When it comes right down to it, Cas, you’re my brother, and I love you. Dean makes you happy, that means he’s my family, too.”

“Did you… _do_ something to him?” Cas asked.

“ _Do_ some… _no_. We just _talked_. What do you mean, Cas?” Gabe looked startled, and Cas believed his denial.

“Dean’s soul seems to have changed color.”

“I hadn’t noticed, but I wasn’t really looking. I don’t know that I could tell you what color it was _before_.”

“It’s always seemed to me to be the same color green as his eyes. But today, well, he said something nice to me, and it was like the light in his soul… flared for a moment. It shone so brightly, I had to close my eyes. And then, I looked more closely, and it isn’t green anymore. It’s white, with small blue dots.”

“So, almost like grace, but the opposite color scheme?”

“Exactly.”

“Cassie… You know _who else_ has that color scheme – or _used_ to, anyway?”

“No…?”

***

“Claire?” Jody called, as she pushed open the front door, and ushered Amy inside.

Claire came out of the kitchen. She leaned down, and offered Amy her hand to shake. “You must be Amy. I’ve heard a lot about you from Jody and Alex. I’m Claire.”

Amy shook Claire’s hand solemnly. “It’s nice to meet you, Claire.”

“It’s very nice to meet you. You have very good manners.” Claire smiled. “Would you like to see your room?”

Amy nodded.

“Okay, let’s go upstairs, and I’ll show you where everything is.” Claire kept hold of Amy’s hand and led her up the stairs.

Jody sat down on the couch. She pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Dean.

“Hey, Jody, how’s Sioux Falls today?” he answered.

“My house has an extra small person now, Dean.”

“Amy? She’s home with you now?”

“Just brought her in. Claire’s giving her a tour upstairs.”

“That’s great, Jodes. You’re so good with kids.”

“I’m a little concerned, Dean; she’s so solemn. She’s four, but she’s really thirty-four; I know she was in stasis, but I wonder how much of what Emily taught Julie, when she was home-schooling her, Amy was able to absorb. I don’t suppose Julie’s father’s ghost said anything about that to you, did he?” Jody asked.

“No. He said it was supposed to be a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship, but I have a hard time seeing the benefit to Amy, or any child in her position, of having been essentially frozen in time for just over 30 years.”

“Yeah, me too. Amy’s relieved that Emily’s gone, sad that her parents and sister are dead – I didn’t say how long ago they died – and Julie was avoiding her at the hospital after we talked to her. I can treat her like a regular four-year-old, I guess, until I figure out exactly what she does and doesn’t know. Did you clear up the situation with her sister’s ghost?”

“Yeah, we salted and burned the Daniels’ car before we left Sioux Falls. She appeared in the car, and we saw her go up as well. So I’m pretty sure that situation’s handled.”

“Good. So, how are things with you and Sam? Obviously, you made it home all right.”

“Things are good here. Jody… Cas and I are _together_ , now,” Dean said, hesitantly.

“Well, hallelujah! _It’s about time!_ ”

“Why does everyone keep _saying_ that?” Dean groused.

“Can I tell Claire? Or do you and Cas want to tell her yourselves?” Jody asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it, but I think Cas would want to tell her; thanks for thinking of it.”

“Sure.”

“Do you know anyone who needs a job, who’d be good at managing the Salvage Yard when we can’t be there? I want to try to make it a going concern again, but I can’t be there all the time.” Dean thought if anyone would know a decent candidate, it would be Jody.

“Hmm. I’ll have to think about that. I can ask around for you,” Jody told him.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Oh, I think the girls are coming down, and it’s time to start dinner. Gotta go. Bye!” Jody ended the call.

Dean realized he was ready for dinner, too; it had been a while since those sandwiches. Spaghetti; that was easy and quick, and everyone liked it.

He headed for the kitchen.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you to watch that light.... LOL
> 
> Yes, I'm evil. :D
> 
> Comments???? :)


	71. Letters to the Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gives Sam another safe REM cycle. Dean writes more letters, then shows one of them to Cas.

Sam went to bed shortly after dinner. The last few weeks had been practically non-stop action, he hadn’t slept for much of the time, and even now, when he’d had decent sleep for a few days, he still got tired easily. The temporary solution Cas had found made perfect sense. He felt far more confident about falling asleep, knowing that if he had a dream at all, it would be because Cas was sitting with him, had turned his REM cycle back on, and was monitoring and steering the dream to safe places in his brain, avoiding The Cage, Lucifer, and Michael. He fell asleep quickly, resting comfortably.

About three hours later, Cas came in. He pulled a chair over by Sam’s bedside, touched Sam’s forehead, briefly noticed that Sam’s soul was a light yellow color (interesting, he thought), and turned on Sam’s REM cycle. He steered Sam’s dream into a memory involving Jess, shortly after Sam had met her; it was a happy memory for Sam, and it lasted about 20 minutes. Cas turned the REM cycle back off, and left the room.

***

Dean waited for Cas in his own room. Cas had said it would probably take 20-30 minutes to give Sam a full REM cycle, and it had been about 10 minutes since Cas had left to go to Sam’s room. So, figuring he had some time, Dean got out his notebook and pen.

***

_Dear Ben,_

_I can’t send this to you, but I wish I could. I wrote to your mom, earlier today; I can’t send her that letter, either. But even knowing you’ll never see this, I have some things that I want to say to you._

_First, I love you. Your mom denied that you’re mine, biologically; I still think you might be, no matter what your mom said, but whether you are or not, that never really mattered to me. From the moment I met you at your eighth birthday party, you might as well have been my son. It was so easy to love you. You were such a good kid, and you and I had so much in common._

_Second, I’m sorry. I know that living with me wasn’t easy. I was afraid for you, but rather than explain why, I turned into Mr. Prison Guard, and tried to keep you safe by enclosing you. I should have known it wouldn’t work. I’m sorry that you were unhappy because of the way I acted. I’m sorry that I abandoned you and your mom to go back to hunting. I know that you never understood why I had to go, or what was so important that I had to leave, or why I had to leave you behind, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t and didn’t explain it. Maybe if I had explained, things would have been better, I don’t know. I can’t regret that I met you, but I very much regret that I made you unhappy by trying to keep you safe, failed to keep you safe anyway, and then had to leave you behind._

_I know that I don’t exist for you, now. I hate that, but I still believe it’s for the best. If I was in your life, you’d never be safe. As it is, I continue to check up on you and your mom from time to time, in ways you’ll never find out that I’m doing it. I’ve seen you on social media, playing baseball and football and soccer. I have the ability to pay for your college education, now, so your mom is going to get a little unexpected “inheritance” soon._

_I miss you. I’m proud of you. I wish there was a way to be in your life and yet have you be safe. There just isn’t. I wish I could be at your graduation ceremony; I know when it is. Maybe someone will post a video, and I’ll get a peek._

_I love you, kiddo. So much._

_Always._

_Dad_

_***_

_Dear Emma,_

_I’m sorry that I never really got the chance to be a father to you._

_I wish so many things – that your mother had told me the truth; that she hadn’t been an Amazon; that you hadn’t grown up over the course of just a couple of days; that I could have been involved with raising you; that you hadn’t bought into the Amazons’ brainwashing and tried to kill me; that you hadn’t been lying when you said that you’d escaped from them and didn’t want to be what they wanted you to be; that Sam hadn’t had to kill you, to stop you from killing me._

_I wish I could have helped you._

_I wish you’d loved me._

_I wish I’d had the chance to know you, to love you, to protect you, teach you, and be there for you, as a father should._

_I don’t tell anyone, but I think about you every day, baby girl. I think about what might have been, if only._

_I love you, sweetheart._

_Always._

_Dad_

***

Dean had to stop writing at that point. He couldn’t see the page anymore.

***

Cas stopped outside Dean’s room. He could feel Dean’s emotions – sadness, a touch of despair, a little longing, and a deep loneliness that startled Cas a bit. He considered giving Dean time to himself, but thought better of it; if Dean was lonely, wouldn’t the best remedy be company? He knocked softly; if Dean wanted to ignore it, he could.

But almost immediately, Cas heard, “Cas? I told you, you don’t have to knock.”

He pushed the door open, and saw Dean sitting at his desk next to the door, his notebook open. He could see the remnants of tear tracks, where Dean had clearly tried to wipe tears away.

“Are you all right, Dean?” Cas asked, gently.

Dean nodded. He pushed the notebook around so Cas could read the letter to Emma. “Go ahead, Cas. I want you to read it.”

Cas nodded solemnly. He picked up the notebook, and read the letter through, twice. “I didn’t know you’d had a daughter, Dean. When was this?”

“Eight years ago. It was shortly before Sam got committed and I found you living as Emanuel, the faith healer… after….”

“After the Leviathans.” Cas nodded.

“Yeah. She was so beautiful, Cas.”

“And you don’t talk about her.”

“Never. Did Sam ever tell you about Amy Pond? I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

“No.”

“Amy was a kitsune. She and Sam were friends for a while, in high school, I think; I think Sam might even have had a crush on her at one point. Shortly after the Leviathans… walked off with you, Sam met up with her again. She was a mortician, and she was feeding on the dead, but she had a son, he was ill, and needed live, fresh food. Sam felt sorry for her, and the kid was okay again by then, so she promised Sam she wouldn't kill anyone else. So Sam left. And when I found out about it, first I badgered Sam to go back and kill her, and when he refused, I did it. I justified it by saying she was a monster, and couldn’t be trusted not to kill again. I don’t think Sam’s ever forgiven me.”

“Okay… is there some connection between Amy and your daughter? I’m confused.”

“The connection is this – when Emma tracked me down, she was supposed to kill me. She lied, said she didn’t want to, but then she pulled a dagger on me. I had a gun, but I hesitated to use it; I wanted to try to talk her down, change her mind. Sam was right outside the door, and he pushed it open, and shot her. And then he reminded me of what I had said to him when he’d refused to kill Amy Pond. He basically told me that my daughter – _his own niece_ – was just a monster, and couldn’t be trusted not to kill. It was like he was protecting me from her, but at the same time, he was taking his revenge on me for having killed Amy. I can’t talk to him about it. I have no idea if he regrets killing Emma, if he’s still angry that I killed Amy. I’ve just left it alone.”

“But you wonder still.”

“Yes. I wonder still, if I’d had the chance to talk to her, disarm her, if I couldn’t have helped her, somehow. If I could have had a relationship with my daughter. _I had a daughter_ , Cas.” Dean started crying again, and Cas gathered him into a gentle hug, trying to give as much comfort as he could. After a moment, Dean pulled back a bit, and wiped his eyes again.

“And since then, without ever talking about the underlying reasons why, Sam and I both have been more careful about trying not to kill someone that’s technically a monster, if they’re not hurting anyone. Like Mia, my therapist – she’s a shapeshifter, but not only does she not hurt anyone, she actively goes out of her way to help people heal.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniffle* 
> 
> I literally cried, writing this.
> 
> Comments???


	72. Not In Kansas Anymore...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam calls the temp agency. He goes for another cup of coffee, then discovers that no one else is home, but the Impala's in the garage. He opens the front door, to find that the entire Bunker has mysteriously moved...elsewhere. Jody asks Amy what she remembers.

Friday morning found Sam in the library, reading through Gabriel’s translation work from the day before, which was helping him to translate _another_ text, which he needed in order to understand a _different_ text entirely. So many of the ancient scrolls depended on the dialect being just right, it was almost like they were encrypted.

He really needed that clerical help, soon. The database entries were lagging behind, the filing was a disaster, and… now he couldn’t even remember what, exactly, it was that he was supposed to be researching, and for whom.

_I had a note here… somewhere…. Dammit._

Sam sighed.

_Time to bite the bullet, and call the temp agency._

He’d looked up the number shortly after Dean had first suggested it, but hadn’t found time to actually make the call. Now, he dialed, and hoped it wouldn’t take too long for them to find someone for the job.

“Hello. My name is Sam Wesson. I need someone for clerical and research assistance… long term, definitely…. Yes, quite possibly temp-to-hire, if they work out, although, honestly, I’d really prefer that your office _permanently_ handle the payroll paperwork and taxes, etc…. yes, two weeks is an adequate trial period… well, I need someone who’s good at data entry and database management; they’d need to be able to type reports, handle telephone calls, do the filing… yes, and we have quite an extensive library here, they’d need to re-shelve books occasionally… also, we get client calls, asking for research to be done, they would need to be able to take the calls and potentially work independently to find the answers, or have the discretion to know when to ask one of us for help finding the answers, and then get back to the client… yes, I understand, it’s not your typical straight clerical position… of course, I wasn’t anticipating paying minimum wage, the position does require skill, discretion, and the ability to work independently… yes, I agree, $18 per hour is fair to start….

“The hours are _very_ flexible, in terms of start and end times each day… really, once the person has a feel for the job, they’ll probably be able to set their own schedule, but I do anticipate being able to keep them busy full time… well, the facility here is extensive; my brother and I, and three others, all work here and live on-site, though we are gone quite often, and then the person might be alone here… no, living here certainly is _not_ required, but if the person needed a place, a room could potentially be made available to them… we have a full kitchen, they’re welcome to bring their lunch and prepare it here… well, at the moment, there’s no one doing the clerical work, and we’re falling behind rather drastically… mmhmm….

“Well, usually mail goes to our PO Box, that’s PO Box 411, Lebanon, Kansas 66952, and you can send your invoices there, to my attention. For actual directions, it might be best to have the person call me directly… well, I have to admit, our facility _is_ difficult to find… my brother and I inherited it some time ago from our grandfather… mmhmm… are you familiar with the old hydroelectric dam off of State Highway 35? It’s near there… yes, we _are_ a little ways out of town, so reliable transportation is important, although for the right person, we’d be willing to drive into town to do pick-ups and drop-offs… yeah, unfortunately, the city bus line doesn’t come out quite this far; it’s about a mile from the nearest bus stop….

“How long do you think it might take to find someone? … really? _Tomorrow_? That _soon_? … that would be ideal… well, yes, certainly, have them call me, I’ll give you the number: 785-555-5252… great. Thank you for your help, really… All right, I will look forward to speaking with them later today…. You too. Bye.”

He ended the call, and shoved his cell phone back in his pocket. He absently went to drink some coffee and discovered his mug was empty.

_Shit. When did that happen? Well, time for more coffee._

He took the mug and headed to the kitchen, where, miraculously, there was a full, fresh pot waiting.

Someone, probably Gabriel, had apparently been baking, because there were fresh muffins and at least 3 different kinds of cookies on plates on the kitchen table. He poured some coffee, doctored it, and grabbed a muffin to take back to the library with him.

He idly wondered where Gabe was, or Jack, or Dean, or Cas. Was anyone but him even _home_? Standing just outside the kitchen, in the War Room, he listened for the sound of voices, or music playing, or…anything. He heard nothing.

“Hello?” he called out. “Guys? … Dean? Cas? Gabe? Jack? … _Hello?_ ”

He waited. No response.

He went down the hall to the stairwell, and down the stairs. He came out into the hall, and listened again. Nothing. All he heard was his own heartbeat.

“ _Hello?_ ”

He waited. No response.

He went down the hall to the garage. He poked his head through the door, assuming that Baby would be gone, but, no. The Impala was right there, in her spot.

Sam muttered, “Oh, this is so _weird_.”

He went back upstairs, and down the hall to the War Room, then up the iron stairs to the front door. He opened the door, and discovered that he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

_Oh, shit._

***

Amy settled in very quickly. She was a very polite, very solemn child. She obeyed every rule that Jody set. She did as she was bid; if she was asked to do a chore, like picking something up from the floor and putting it away, she complied immediately. If Jody, Claire, or Alex asked her if she’d like to read a book with them, she’d sit next to them on the couch and follow along. If offered something to eat or drink, she’d take it, no matter what it was, and eat or drink it obediently.

But by Friday morning, Jody had noticed that Amy never asked for anything, never suggested an activity, and the one time she’d refused to do something, it was when Jody had asked if she would like to go outside to play. She was fine with being alone in any room in the house, but Amy wouldn’t set foot outside the door without Jody, and then only to go somewhere specific, like the grocery store or the post office. She absolutely refused to be by herself outside the house, even just on the front porch.

It was starting to creep Jody out, and she decided it was time for answers. She had already been wondering what, if anything, Amy remembered of the thirty years she'd been in stasis. She already knew that Amy remembered her sister and her parents, and that it had been 1989. She finally just took the bull by the horns.

“Amy? I need to speak with you, honey. Come sit next to me on the couch,” Jody said.

Amy came over and climbed right up.

“Amy, what would you like to do this afternoon?”

Amy shrugged. “Whatever you’d like to do, Jody, is fine.”

“Are you hungry at all?”

Amy shrugged. “No, Jody.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

Amy shrugged. “Yes, Jody.”

“Is something wrong, sweetie?”

Amy looked up at Jody, and sighed. “Jody, _**everything** is wrong_. I’m sorry, but _my parents are **dead**. My twin sister is **dead**_. I remember being with them like it happened a week ago, but they died in 1989, didn't they?"

Jody nodded, slowly. "Yeah. Do you understand what happened to you?"

Amy sighed. "Jody, I don't know exactly what happened, or why, but I know that Julie somehow grew out of my back. I don't know how to explain it any better than that. I know that I’m a thirty-four year old in the body of a four-year-old. _I lost thirty years_ , if it's really 2019 now, and I have no reason to believe that it isn't. I remember things I heard, during that time; I wasn’t unconscious, I was cognizant just… _completely unable to **move**_. Look, I get that I'm not able to function as an adult, and that I will need assistance, but I can't pretend to actually be a child, okay?"

Jody nodded again. “Can you tell me what you remember?” she asked.

“I could see, but I was never shown anything. When Julie learned to read, I could hear what she was reading, and I remembered reading with my parents; but I never got to see the book that Julie was looking at, and I wasn’t able to ask to see it. Emily home-schooled Julie, but most of the time she just had her read material from a book, and then take a test. If she lectured, I learned what Julie did, but she didn't do that much.

"I got bored easily. I _drifted_. I slept, a lot. It was easier than trying to make sense of what was happening.

"Julie, for the most part, ignored me, except for the one time she got close enough to a mirror to figure out that I was actually a person, and then she freaked out so much she passed out. Emily ignored me _completely_ , as if I didn’t exist.

"And then, when Julie got old enough to not need our connection anymore, I fell off of her, and Emily just picked me up off the floor like it was entirely normal, and started talking to me for the first time, and that was almost worse. She treated me like a child, clearly expecting that I wouldn’t know who I was, that I wouldn’t remember anything at all, that she could lie to me with impunity. She claimed to be my mother, but I knew she was lying; when I said so, she spanked me. When I asked where my sister was, she pretended that Alma was an imaginary friend that only I could see, even though I was asking _where she was_. When I talked back to her, she left me alone in a playpen for hours. If I failed to do something she told me to do, she'd spank me. If I expressed a wish to do something, she'd just tap me on the lips and say that 'children shouldn't speak unless spoken to.' I learned in the first week off Julie's back that if I didn't do exactly as Emily told me to do, there'd be consequences.

“And then, there was the monster.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. How odd. I wonder where the Bunker went? And who could be responsible for having moved it? 
> 
> Poor Amy. She knew more than she let on all along. Good thing she went to Jody, and not a regular foster home, huh? ;)
> 
> Comments??


	73. Is It Time to Freak Out, Yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe's baked goods are gone, as is Sam, but no one seems terribly concerned about either. Sam has a chat with an unlikely ally. Amy tells Jody about the monster.

Dean and Cas came into the kitchen and found Gabriel searching for something.

“Gabe? What’s going on?” Cas asked.

“I baked. I swear, I _baked_ earlier. I made muffins, peanut butter cookies, oatmeal scotchies, and chocolate chip cookies. I went to the bathroom, I wasn’t even gone ten minutes, I came back, and it was all gone!”

“Wasn’t us, we were down in the basement at the shooting range, practicing,” Dean said. “I’d say the most likely suspect would be Jack. Sam might take a single muffin, but he wouldn’t touch cookies.”

“Did someone say we have _cookies_?” Jack asked, as he bounced in to the room.

“Sorry, Tigger, afraid not,” Gabe said, dryly. “So, where is Sam, anyway? I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“Neither have I,” Cas reported. “He was in here early, before taking his morning run, making coffee.”

“I passed him in the hall around noon on his way to the library,” Dean said. “Haven’t seen him since.”

“I haven’t seen Sam at all, today, Uncle Gabe,” Jack said.

"Well, so, apparently, I saw Sam last, on his way to the library, so, that’s probably where he is, Gabe. But I’m telling you, Sam is not a cookie thief,” Dean commented.

Jack looked over at Dean. “Do you think we could go for another ride today? Or tomorrow, if you’re too busy today?”

“Yeah, sure, kiddo. We could get out today. I could use some air, maybe stop for pie again. What do you say, Cas? You up for another ride?” Dean grinned.

Cas nodded. “Sounds good. How about you, ‘Uncle Gabe’?”

“Why not?” Gabe reached over and ruffled his nephew’s hair.

***

Sam slammed the front door shut. The inky blackness of space just outside the door was oddly lacking in gravitational pull, and the oxygen hadn’t escaped out the door when he’d opened it; so it was likely that this was one of two things.

_Either this is a hallucination, or the Bunker's been moved to a pocket dimension._

“It’s actually kind of a combination, there, Sammy. Yeah, I can still hear your thoughts, even though I’m out here, now.”

Sam looked down over the iron railing, and saw Lucifer standing at the bottom of the iron stairs, grinning up at him, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his ratty old sneakers. Sam shuddered, and stayed right where he was, at the top of the iron stairs.

“See, the Bunker is warded, so it can’t be moved. And your REM cycle is turned off – which was clever of Cas, by the way – but I was able to play with just enough of your neurons to not cause any real, lasting harm, but to give you a whammy of a hallucination. So, you _think_ you’re still in the Bunker, but actually, you’re in my pocket dimension.”

“How did you move me from _within_ the warded Bunker?”

“Oh, I just got you to go outside while you were on the phone, Sammy. You _thought_ you were still in the Bunker, but you weren’t.” Lucifer smiled. “So, Sam, c’mon down, let’s catch up.”

“I’m fine here,” Sam said.

_If Lucifer’s a ghost, he can’t climb the iron stairs._

“Except that this isn’t _really_ the Bunker, Sammy, so these stairs? _Not iron_. And I can _still_ hear your thoughts.” Lucifer climbed up the first two steps, and put his hand on the iron railing. “So, you might as well come down, and get comfy. I just wanna chat, Sam, really.” Lucifer held up his hands in a gesture of mock innocence. Sam wasn’t fooled, but there was no point staying on the small balcony if the iron wasn’t a deterrent. He followed Lucifer down the steps and into the War Room.

“Have a seat, Sammy.”

Lucifer seated himself at the map table, so Sam did as well – on the opposite side.

“What do you _want_ , Lucifer?”

“Just to chat, Sam. You’re so… _distrusting_. It _hurts_ me, Sammy.”

“Yeah, _right_.” Sam huffed out a laugh.

“Look, Sam, I’ll be straight with you. I dunno what Cas told you about the little chat he and I had, a few nights back, but I assume he probably told you everything that I told him, and that’s fine. I have nothing to hide, here. But just to confirm: yes, I’m really dead. When I died, I was given a choice. I could go to The Empty with the rest of the deceased angel corps, or I could go back to The Cage. No one said it had to be The Cage that’s actually _in Hell_. After what you, Michael, and I had been through in The Cage, I knew that each of us had one in our respective memory palaces, and since Cas had fixed you up a bit, I knew that your memory palace was likely to have the least damaging atmosphere. And that’s true, Sam.

"You have a very nice memory palace, by the way. I’ve been wandering around in it the last few weeks. Sorry that John neglected you so much, but, hey, Jess was hot, huh?”

“If you were _supposed_ to be _in_ The Cage, how is it you’re wandering around my memory palace _outside_ of The Cage?” Sam asked.

“Oh, that’s easy, Sammy. See, The Cage in your memory palace has one especially nice distinguishing feature that the _real_ Cage, and the ones in my and Michael’s brains _don’t_ have.”

“What’s that?”

“In your brain, Sammy, The Cage’s lock is _broken_. See, The Cage is really a mental construct. When you fell into Hell? Yeah, you were really falling into your own mind, in a way, through a dimensional twist. I can't really explain the physics of it in a way you'd understand, just trust me, 'kay? When Cas got your body out, he broke the lock, but not all the way. When Death came back for your soul, though? Yeah, he kinda _obliterated_ it.”

“So, how did _Michael and Adam_ end up in my head?”

“Oh, well, _Adam_ isn’t, really. Adam died and went to Heaven when Cas threw the grenade all those years ago in Stull Cemetery. Then _I_ killed Cas. _Dad_ resurrected both Cas and Michael _in their most recent forms_ – those of their vessels, Adam Milligan and Jimmy Novak – but Adam and Jimmy were actually _dead_ , and their souls went straight to Heaven.

“So, Michael’s been in The Cage all this time, and he’s gone a little bit crazy. (Oh, who are we kidding? He’s _cuckoo_. Totally _gone_.) Anyway, he was out wandering around, talking to himself, and then died when a car hit him, shortly after dear old Dad opened all the doors in Hell. Then Michael was given the same choice I was, but he was too nuts to understand it, so I pulled him along with me. He doesn’t _recognize_ me, though; see, the Michael that you and I met, in Stull Cemetery, the one wearing Adam, the one who was in The Cage with us? He never knew me when I was wearing _Nick_.”

“That’s why when he sees me, he thinks I’m you – he thinks _I’m_ still _your_ vessel,” Sam realized.

“Exactly. I have no idea who he thinks _I_ am; he just calls me ‘Brother.’” Lucifer shrugged.

“Where is he right now?”

“Still in your head, Sammy; I didn’t bring him along for this lovely little visit.”

“So, again, what do you _want_ , Lucifer?”

“I want to work _with_ you, Sam, not against you. **_You wanna bring down dear old Dad?_** Well, ** _I’m right there with ya_**.”

***

“What can you tell me about the monster, Amy?” Jody asked.

“I never saw it until after I fell off of Julie, and that was only a few weeks ago. But then, every night, this dark, hooded figure would come and sit by my bedside, and its long, thin, dark fingers would wave in the air above me, and its mouth would make this horrible sucking sound, and I would start to feel ill right away. The longer it was able to stay there, uninterrupted, the worse I felt, and the longer I felt that way.

“Emily interrupted it, once; that was the night before she took me to the hospital. But even _in the hospital_ it came around.”

“Okay. Well, the monster has been dealt with, and so has Emily. _They’re gone_. And you don’t have to see or have anything to do with Julie.”

“I don’t really have anything against _Julie_ , I just… I don’t understand how she grew _out of me_ , and how _I_ didn’t grow in all the time she was doing it. It’s… _weird_. But I don’t think it was Julie’s _fault_ , exactly.”

“No, it wasn’t. At some point, you’ll get to meet our friends, Sam and Dean. Dean will be able to explain more about what happened.

"But for right now, you can believe that you’re _safe_ , and that we’ll keep you that way.”

“Jody… Why aren’t you _freaking out_ about this?” Amy asked.

Jody thought that was a pretty darn good question, actually.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... Curiouser and curiouser. So, should Sam trust Lucifer? Why isn't Jody freaking out? Why isn't Sam? Will Gabe get his baked goods back from the pocket dimension? 
> 
> Stay tuned! LOL
> 
> If you don't leave a comment.... the kitten gets it!   
> (Okay, it's a cat, and "it" is its mousey toy. But you should still totally feel threatened and leave a damn comment!) 
> 
> ;)


	74. Time To Make a Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer asks Sam to give him a chance. Jody and Claire talk about Amy, and Claire's gift to Donna.

“Wait… ** _what_**? You want to **_help_ **us? Then _what the **fuck** were you doing, helping Michael **torture** me?_” Sam snarled.

“For _months_ now – **_months_** , Lucifer – you’ve been haunting my dreams, and **_not_ **to talk about fighting Chuck.

“You told me you’d been in my head consistently since I said ‘yes’ to you back in Detroit all those years ago; that was a **_lie_**.

“You told me you ' _would turn me inside out and make me beg for it_.' _You held me still for Michael_. You let Michael think that _I was you_ , you _cuffed my wrists and ankles to a table_ , and then taunted me because I couldn’t get away. _You sealed my lips shut_ so I couldn’t pray to Cas for help. And now you’ve _played with my brain_ to cause hallucinations so you could trap me in your personal pocket dimension, and you think that I should **_trust_ **you and let you be privy to our plans on how to fight **_God_**? _Seriously_? **_Fuck you, Lucifer_**.”

Lucifer nodded, and golf-clapped politely. “I deserved every word of that little tirade, Sammy. Did it make you feel better? Look, I’m a _jerk_ , okay? I admit it. But most of that is just… bad habits. I was _corrupted_ , Sam. I wore the Mark long before Dean did, and for a lot longer; that’s why Dad locked me in The Cage the first time. And I was in The Cage, _alone_ , for **_millennia_**. You know that The Cage itself is an instrument of torture, Sam, you’ve been in it.

“And I didn’t _lose_ the Mark when I passed it to Cain, he just got it _also_. Cain didn’t lose it when he passed it to Dean, either. Dean was the _first_ person to be able to get rid of the Mark; _I’m the second. Look, see? It’s **gone**_.” Lucifer rolled up his sleeves to show that the Mark was, in fact, gone.

“Believe me, as much as you think _you_ have reason to fight my Dad… _I’ve_ got way more’n you. For starters, _He put the Mark on me in the first damn place_ , after I helped Him lock away Auntie Amara. And _then_ , rather than _take it back_ when He saw what it was doing to me, He put me in The Cage. Was that _fair_? I ask you, Sam, was that fair?

"You managed to forgive _Dean_ for what he did under the Mark’s influence, Sammy. Now, I know he’s your big brother, and all, but you and I, we’ve been through a lot together, too. Don’t I deserve the same consideration?

“Yeah, I was _mean_ to you, I held you for Michael, blah, blah, blah. C’mon, Sam, Dean tried to _kill_ you. I never did _that_!”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Lucifer sighed. “Sam, the Mark’s _gone_. I solemnly promise you: no more torturing you, no more helping Michael to torture you, I’ll leave your dreams alone and make sure that Mikey does, too. Okay? Seriously, Sam, I want to _help_. I… I kinda _need_ to help. And you’re going to need an Archangel in on this.”

“We _have_ an Archangel,” Sam told him.

“Ah, last I checked, Cas is still just a _Seraph_. I mean, I’m not knocking Seraphs, they’re great, and he totally deserved the promotion, and all, but he’s not an Archangel, Sam.”

“I was referring to _Gabriel_.”

“Ah, no, Gabe’s _dead_ , Sam.”

“Ah, that was true a few days ago, yeah, but The Cosmic Entity brought back Gabe, Jack, and about 300,000 angels loyal to Cas and told Cas that he should “deal with God, so I don’t have to.' Cas sent everyone but Gabe and Jack up to power up Heaven again.”

“My _kid’s_ back from the Empty?” Lucifer spoke softly, with reverence. “I know he doesn’t trust me, either, Sam, and I know I made a lot of mistakes with Jack, but….”

“ _Forget it_ , Lucifer. I’m not letting you _anywhere_ near Jack, if it means that I have to send him up to Heaven, or go away myself.”

“Sam, _please_. I’m _begging_ you. Give me a _chance_. Let me prove myself to you, to Cas, to Gabe. If I can convince all three of you that I’m being sincere when I say I want to help put Dad down, that I’ve changed, and that I’d really like to try again with Jack… If I can do that, please, say you’ll consider letting me talk to him? He’s my **_son_** , Sam. I fucked things up, but I _love_ him. _Please_ , Sam.” Lucifer pleaded.

Sam shook his head wearily. “If – and that’s a pretty big damned **_IF_** , Luce – you can convince _me, Cas, Gabe, **and Dean**_ that you’ve really changed, I’ll _consider_ asking Jack if he’ll consider letting you speak to him. You _hurt_ him, Lucifer. I can’t guarantee that he’ll want to give you a chance, even if we decide to.”

“Fair. Totally. I get it. I fucked up. I’ve been fucking things up for a really long time, Sam. I want to stop fucking things up, okay? I really do.”

“Assuming that when I confer with the others, we agree to let you help… how do we get you out of my head, and into the world?” Sam asked.

“Gabe’ll know how, Sam. Between him and Cassie, they should be able to manage it.”

“All right. I’ll talk to them, Lucifer. But if even one of the four of us vetoes it, your chance is _gone_. And I’m _not_ guaranteeing how I’ll vote.”

“Also fair.”

“ _And_ I have one more condition.”

“Name it, Sam.”

“If any one of us vetoes, not only do you _not_ get a chance to help with Chuck, not only do you _not_ get a chance to have Jack consider speaking with you, but you _will_ take Michael and yourself _out of my brain_ , and go where you were supposed to when you were given the choice – _the Empty, or The Cage, the **real** Cage, the one in **Hell**_. Not some alternate, and **_not_ **the one in my head. No matter _how_ this goes down, Lucifer, I do _not_ consent to having you and Michael in residence inside me, even if neither of you is still an Archangel.”

“Also fair. And for the record, Sam, I _am_ sorry. For _everything_ I’ve done to hurt you, Dean, Cas, Gabe, Jack. I really do regret it; what I did to Jack most of all.”

“We’re not the only ones you hurt, Luce. We’re just the committee who decides your fate.”

Lucifer nodded. “The thing is, Sam, the four of you will be fair. I may not get what I want, but I really do respect all four of you, and trust you to do the right thing.”

Sam took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Okay. Well, you want to end the hallucination and let me get back to the real Bunker, so I can talk to them about all this, then? And if I were you, I’d put Gabe’s baked goods back in the real Bunker kitchen, too.”

“Awww. Fine. Can I keep _one_ cookie?”

“Fine, _one cookie_. Jesus.”

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Sam was standing right outside the Bunker’s front door.

_Well. Back to good old Kansas. There’s no place like home._

Sam pushed the door open, and went to find the others.

***

After dinner, Alex took Amy upstairs to read a book before bed. Claire was washing the dishes, while Jody dried and filled her in on the conversation with Amy from that afternoon.

“So, she was _aware_ of what was going on around her the whole time?” Claire was horrified.

“For some of it, at least, yeah. She said she slept a lot, or drifted. She could see, but she was never shown anything. There was a lot of things that Julie learned by reading, and Amy couldn’t see the book, so she didn’t get to know what Emily was teaching her. Emily never tried to teach Amy anything, she just ignored her completely, until the stasis was over and she fell off of Julie’s back onto the floor.”

“Ew. Didn’t really need _that_ image. But ugh, that poor kid.”

“Well, that’s the thing. She _looks_ like a four-year-old, but she’s really _thirty-four_. She knows she won’t be able to pass as an adult, and she’s going to need a lot of help, but at least when she’s here, she doesn’t want to have to, and I don’t think she should have to, pretend to actually be a _child_ , either. We’re all going to have to be really sensitive to it, and find a way to get her through it.”

“So, do you think you’d try home schooling her?”

“I don’t know. As far as the state’s concerned, she’s four. We’ve got almost a full year before we’d have to register her for kindergarten. We’ll have to see how fast she develops, physically. There are socialization issues, too; it’s not like she’s been around people her own age in the last thirty years. And she’s grieving the loss of her parents and twin sister, and even if she won’t admit it, it’s an adjustment for Emily and Julie to be out of her life, and now she has to figure out how to deal with all of us. We’re all going to have to be really patient.”

“What time is Donna supposed to be getting here?” Claire asked.

“She said she thought she’d be here by 9:00, and if she was going to be late, she’d call.”

“Okay. It’s 8:30 now, so I’m gonna run up and get her card and check ready.” Claire grinned.

“She doesn’t have any clue that's coming?”

“I don’t think so. I specifically asked Sam, Dean, and Cas not to spoil the surprise, so I don’t think they’d have _dared_ tell her. So unless you or Alex said something, and Alex’s been too busy working, so that really just leaves _you_ ….” Claire’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, then she giggled. “Okay, I’m running up.”

“Okay. I’ll finish up in here, and then start pulling the likely movie candidates.”

“Excellent!” Claire headed for the stairs, as Jody reached for the last wet plate.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luci's kinda sorta got a point - Chuck really did screw him over. ;)
> 
> Are two archangels better than one? Or should they pass? Hmm. Tough choice!
> 
> Comments??? :)


	75. Assigning the Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam lets the gang at the Bunker know what Lucifer told him. Conclusions are drawn, and a mission is assigned. Sam gets a call from the temp agency's candidate.

Gabe realized something was up when the baked goods suddenly reappeared out of nowhere, as if they’d never been gone, just as Sam came through the front door of the Bunker and called out.

“Hello? Guys? Gabe, Cas, Dean, Jack?”

Gabe took the five steps from kitchen into the War Room. “Hey, Sammy.”

“Gabe. Your cookies and stuff make it back okay?”

“Yeah. You had them?”

“Not me, no. Tell you in a minute, when everyone else gathers round.”

Cas and Dean came in from the direction of the bedrooms. Cas’ hair looked a little rumpled, but then, Sam supposed, it kinda always did.

Jack came in from the library, and then they were all there.

“Can everybody take a seat? I… um… well, I kinda have news.” Sam said.

“You’re pregnant?” Dean guessed, winking at his brother as he took a seat.

“Har har har. No. Shut up, Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Be nice, you two.” Cas smiled and rolled his eyes as he sat down.

Gabe and Jack grabbed chairs as well.

“Okay, so I just got back from Lucifer’s personal private pocket dimension. Apparently, Cas, when you denied him access to my dreams, by shutting off my REM cycles except for monitored dreams, he decided to just play with my neurons directly, cause a hallucination to get me outside, and then kidnap me, along with Gabe’s cookies, into an alternate reality, so we could have a chat.”

“Whoa, he did what?” Dean stiffened.

“No, stand down, it’s okay. Really, he just wanted to chat. And, to offer his assistance.”

“With what?” Dean asked.

“With Chuck. Also, when he found out that you were back from The Empty, Jack, he said he’d like another chance to be your father and to prove to you that he loves you.”

“The three of you are my fathers. Lucifer’s just the source of my DNA,” Jack said, quietly.

“Oh, come on, Sam. Tell me you weren’t really buying in to this. It’s Lucifer!” Dean shouted.

“Yeah, D, I know. I know. And believe me, I had issues with it. But here’s the thing, Dean. Until Lucifer died, he still bore the Mark.”

That startled Dean. “How could he have had it, when I did?”

“He said that he’d had it since God gave it to him right after they first locked Amara away. When he gave the Mark to Cain, it didn’t pass from him so much as split in two. And when Cain gave it to you, it did the same. Each division left a separate Mark, each as potent as the original. He said that as much as we have against Chuck, he’s got more – in no small part because Chuck gave him the Mark in the first place, and when it corrupted him, rather than taking it back, Chuck locked him away in The Cage, which is, itself, an instrument of torture. And he was in there, Marked, being tortured, for millennia. So that now, he says that yeah, he’s a jerk, but it’s mostly due to bad habits, which he’s trying to change. He said that you were the first person to be able to lose the Mark, Dean, but he’s the second. And he rolled up his sleeves and showed me, it’s really gone.”

Gabriel lounged back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling. “One: _How’d he get rid of it?_ Rowena did a spell to remove it from Dean; that spell released dear Auntie Amara. Two: he told Cassie that he’d been given a choice when he died – to go to the Empty, or to go back to The Cage. _Who gave him the choice?_ ”

“He mentioned that choice to me, as well. He didn’t say who offered it.” Sam noted.

“I think there’s _one answer to both of your questions_ , Gabriel.” Castiel nodded; Gabe nodded back.

They said as one: “ _Amara_.”

“But Amara was with Chuck in Reno. I saw them together. They were in line at the lunch buffet in the casino, getting food and laughing,” Cas said.

“Yes, but Amara’s crafty. She could be hanging out with Chuck at the same time that she’s working against him. She’d be about the only person who could hide that kind of thing from him,” Dean pointed out.

“Well, technically, Lucifer and I can swing it, too, if we want; it just takes more energy for us. I’m shielding this meeting, in addition to the Bunker’s already strong warding, for instance; and Lucifer didn’t even meet with Sam inside his own head in the Bunker, he took him to a wholly separate pocket dimension, which means he’s cognizant of the need for secrecy, too.”

“Wait, you think he did that for _secrecy’s sake?_ Not just because he’s trapped in my head and had to play with my neurons to be able to get to talk to me at all?” Sam asked.

Gabe shook his head. “He could have just given you a hallucination, Sam; he didn’t have to take the added step of the pocket dimension, _unless he was hiding from Dad_.”

Cas nodded. “I think that’s right. And I think we should lend some credence to the idea that Lucifer is actually trying to keep all of us safe from Chuck. Now, that may be because he wishes to _appear_ trustworthy….”

“Or it could be because he actually _is_ trustworthy.” Jack sighed. “Look, guys, given what he’s done in the past, I have a hard time trusting Lucifer, too. But his claim that he was acting under the Mark’s influence does make some sense to me. And if the Mark is gone, then maybe we should give him a chance.”

“I think we can take it as a given that Lucifer isn’t willingly working for Chuck,” Gabe put in. “But we need to know what side dear Auntie Amara is on.”

“When I was in Reno, I learned that she has a very structured schedule. She’s staying at the casino. She gets up and spends quite a bit of money in the casino’s spa, usually from 8:00 to noon. Then she goes to the casino’s restaurant for the all-you-can-eat lunch buffet, and in the afternoon, she plays Keno from about 1:30 until she’s ready for dinner.”

“We need someone to go in and speak with her, away from Chuck. Someone who’d recognize Chuck and know to duck out if they saw him coming, but who Chuck wouldn’t recognize… which lets out everyone in _this_ room.” Gabe sighed.

“ _Hannah_.” Cas smiled. “Hannah is smart, takes direction well, she can think on her feet, she’s spent time with humans, she knows what Amara and Chuck look like, but she’s low enough in Heaven’s hierarchy – or was, when Chuck was still there – that Chuck wouldn’t recognize her if he saw her.”

“I thought you put her in charge of getting Heaven powered back up, Cas,” Dean pointed out.

“I did, but either Inias or Balthazar could handle that responsibility just as well as Hannah; unfortunately, Chuck might recognize either of them. And really, those three would be the only candidates outside of the people currently in this room that I would trust with such a mission,” Cas explained.

“Sounds like it’s pretty much gotta be Hannah, then,” Sam agreed.

Just then, Sam’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and saw that Caller ID indicated it was a Shann Murray, which was the name he’d been given by the temp agency. “I gotta take this call.” He answered the phone and stepped away into the kitchen.

“Hello, this is Sam Wesson… Yes, Mr. Murray, the temp agency said they’d have you call this afternoon if you were interested in the position. I take it this call means you at least want to know more?... Great. My brother and I have a large collection of ancient texts, much of which contains religious lore and other mythological source material. I’ve been cataloguing the collection and trying to create a database of the lore. We get quite a large number of inquiries each year requiring research, and the sooner the database is up and running, the easier the research will become… yes, correct, you’d be doing research, cataloguing, data entry, filing, typing, fielding the inquiry calls from clients, and I think I can guarantee that you’ll almost always be busy, and hardly ever bored. At the same time, it’s rare that there would be any kind of urgent deadline to meet, so you’ll have full time work, but you can set your own schedule. If you needed to leave for the day at 2:30 for a doctor appointment, you could do that. So long as the work’s getting done, it doesn’t need to be done strictly between the hours of 8 to 5…. Exactly….

“Yes, we have our own facility; it’s rather large and quite extensive, but much of it was built underground, so it’s hard to see, sometimes…. Well, I can give you directions, and you can try to find it on your own, or I can make it easy on you, and just swing by and pick you up and bring you back. Up to you…. Well, I’ll tell you what, I need a few things from the grocery store, so I was planning to run into town anyway. I’ll come and do that now, then pick you up on my way back, give you the tour and introduce you to my brother and our colleagues. And then my brother was planning on going out this evening, so he can drop you off at home on his way out. And that way you’ll know where we are… All right. I’ll dial you back when I leave the store and let you know that I’m on the way…. Great, see you in about an hour, then.”

Dean walked into the kitchen just as Sam ended the call. “Who was that?”

“New clerical and research assistant from the temp agency. Name is Shann Murray. I’m going to run into town, hit the grocery store, pick him up on my way back. I’ll show him around, maybe get him started, and when you head out later, you can drop him home. And then tomorrow, he’ll know where to go, and he can get here on his own.”

“Yeah, okay, Sammy. Jack wanted to go for a ride later, so, sure, we can drop this guy… Shann?... home, no problem.

"Oh, hey, can you be sure to pick up extra coffee and extra creamer at the store? We’ve got five addicts, now, and if Shann drinks it too, we’ll be out in no time.”

“Yeah, I’ll get twice what I normally would. Good thought.” Sam nodded.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, they're gonna need another coffeemaker. ;)
> 
> Comments?? :)


	76. Damned Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes an unfortunate nap. Sam does the grocery shopping and picks up Shann.

After the meeting, Dean told Cas he was going to go lie down for a while. Cas asked if he wanted company, but Dean smiled softly, said no, he just needed a bit of a nap, and suggested that Cas spend some quality time with Jack.

Dean went to his room, and by the time he was sitting on the edge of the bed, he was feeling so tired he was almost a little dizzy. He managed to kick off his shoes, lie down, and get under a blanket, and then he was _out_.

He slept deeply, resting well, for about an hour, before his brain cells started firing for a REM cycle of his own.

“Well, hello, Dean.” He hadn’t heard that particular snarky, nasally, whine in quite some time; he thought he could happily live quite well without hearing it ever again.

“Alastair.”

“Fucking an _angel_ now, I hear. Really, Dean, don’t you think Castiel might be just a _tiny_ bit out of your league? Really, what does a former apprentice torturer, a former _demon_ , have to offer a _Seraph_ , eh? Oh, right, that bright-and-shiny _soul_ of yours." Alastair rolled his eyes. "Does Castiel know _everything_ you did while working for me, Dean? Does he know how _hard_ you worked to dim your own light?”

“Shut up, Alastair. Cas _loves_ me. He knows what I went through, and not only does it _not_ bother him, it’s one of the reasons _why_ he loves me as much as he does, because I was strong enough to get through it.”

Alastair laughed. “But you _weren’t_ , Dean. _Not nearly_. I put you back together every day for forty years. Castiel only put you back together _once_ , and _by his own account_ , didn’t really do all that good a job of it. Couldn’t really tell which pieces he needed, so he never weeded out the extras.”

“There shouldn’t have _been_ ‘extras,’ you _bastard_. Those are on **_you_** , not Cas.” Dean spat his defiance and his defense of his angel at the demon.

“Oh, I _happily_ take credit for them, love. _You are what I made you_ , Dean. _You always will be_. Even if you’d never taken the Mark, you were _always_ coming back to me eventually. You know that, right? _What did you learn from **Kevin**_ , Dean? Souls who’ve been to Hell – they can _never_ go… _where_ was it, again?” Alastair snickered as Dean’s face fell.

“I mean, even assuming you _win_ , Dean, think about it: _hurrah! Chuck’s gone,_ and Castiel’s needed in _Heaven_. The Archangels that are sort of left – I mean, let’s face it, Gabe’s been dead a couple of years, and Lucy still is – they’re not strong enough to take over. Jack has _power_ , but no judgment, no experience; he can’t run things effectively. You can’t really trust Amara any more than you can trust Chuck, and it’s doubtful the angels would follow her anyway.

“So, you win, _but Castiel’s no longer by your side_. And even if you personally survive the fight, your human lifespan is the blink of an eye to Castiel. He’ll be busy, and, eventually, you’ll _die_ , and you’ll be in Hell… with me, at _my_ side, my apprentice, again. _Right where you belong_.” Alastair smiled softly, and the kindness in the expression was somehow sickening to see.

“No. _No_. I don’t believe you.” Dean shook his head, violently.

“Yes, Dean. And that’s the _best_ outcome. That’s assuming you _win_. Think about if you _lose_. You won’t be at my side, then, Dean. _You’ll be back on the rack_ ; this time, for **_eternity_**. And _Castiel won’t be able to save you_.”

“No. _No_. You’re not real.”

“Best case: you’re in Hell, at my side, back at work torturing others. Worst case: you’re in Hell, on the rack, being tortured. _There’s no scenario where you end up in Heaven_ , Dean. And _none where Castiel ends up with you_. Face it, Dean. _You have nothing to offer him_ , long-term. Sure, he thinks he loves you – **_now_**. But I doubt he’s really looked _ahead_ , into the future, because it’s just so **_obvious_** , Dean.”

“ _Nooo_ ….” Dean moaned, tears starting to slip down his cheeks, still shaking his head to deny the horrifying picture Alastair was painting.

“I’m doing you a _kindness_ , Dean. I’m telling you _the truth_. Your little happy family doesn’t last very long. It’s better that you realize it, and harden your heart _now_ , Dean. Because out of all of you, _you_ have the most to lose. And you _will_ lose it, Dean. No matter what. I’m so sorry, Dean. Not that it’s not satisfying to be the one who makes you face reality, but I’ve always been a little fond of you. You always made me work for it, that moment when the pin drops, and you _finally_ realize, you finally _believe_ , what you’ve _always_ known. **_You’re just not good enough, Dean_**. _You never have been, and you never will be_.”

Dean was sobbing, now. Alastair cupped his cheek and wiped his tear with a gentle swipe of a thumb – much as Dean had done for Cas, not long ago – but then Alastair licked his thumb. “ _Ahh, such delicious tears_.”

Dean shuddered.

“Thinking that you could be good enough for an _angel_. That’s so… _optimistic_ of you, Dean. I really didn’t think you had it in you. Well, that’s all right. You know the _truth_ , now, _don’t you_ , Dean?” Alastair smiled, and while the facial expression was almost kind, the look in his eyes was pure evil.

Dean nodded, dejectedly. He stared at the floor, tears streaming, breath hitching, and fell to his knees. Alastair ruffled his hair, gently.

***

Sam moved quickly through the supermarket’s aisles, trying to think in terms of getting ingredients for meals, rather than picking up a lot of junk for snacking. Though, with Dean, Gabe, and Jack around, certain snack purchases were, of course, necessary and inevitable. He got four large bags of ground coffee, and eight bottles of the flavored creamer – hazelnut – that everyone liked. With his cart full, he got in line, loaded the conveyor belt, waited, paid, got the bagged groceries back in the cart, and headed out to the car. _His_ car. For once, he’d taken his own Dodge Charger, rather than asking Dean for the keys to the Impala. He loaded up the trunk, put the cart in the corral, got in the car, and turned over the ignition.

He pulled out of the parking lot, and headed over to Main and Third, where he’d agreed to pick up the new guy.

_Shann. Kind of an odd name._

And indeed, there was a guy standing on the corner, right where he’d said he be. Sam pulled up to the curb and put down the passenger-side window.

“Shann Murray?”

“Sam Wesson?”

“That’s me, hop in.”

Shann pulled open the passenger door, and slid into the seat. He offered his hand to Sam. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wesson.”

Sam shook the offered hand. “Just 'Sam' is fine. Seat belt.”

“Right.” Shann buckled up, and they were off.

“It’s not a long drive, but the first time people come out to our facility, they almost always have trouble finding it. We call it the Bunker, since most of it’s built underground.”

“The lady from the temp agency said it’s you, your brother, and three others?”

“Yes. There are five of us that live in the Bunker full time: Me; my older brother, Dean; his boyfriend, Cas; Cas’ brother, Gabriel; and Cas’ adopted son, Jack. I should probably mention that Jack looks a little older than he really is; he’s a smart guy, but sometimes he doesn’t make certain connections, so talking with him can sometimes be a little awkward. Also, Jack considers Cas, Dean, and myself all to be ‘dad,’ so that sometimes comes out when he’s talking with us; don’t let it surprise you.”

“Got it. The work that you described sounds really interesting. My dad’s a philosophy professor at a small college in Ohio, so I grew up with old manuscripts, and stuff like that that he worked with, just lying around the house, and I’d help him with research sometimes, so I come by the interest honestly, I guess. My own degree’s in anthropology. You?”

“I didn’t finish, but I was pre-law, political science, at Stanford, for just over three years. Um, my senior year got… disrupted. My girlfriend died in an apartment fire, so I took some time off, ended up not going back.”

“Yikes, sorry man.”

“Nah, it’s okay, it happened a long time ago.” Sam smiled as they turned onto the dirt road. "Okay, this next turn is our parking lot.”

“Um… I don’t see a building.” Shann looked out the window, but saw nothing that even _resembled_ a building.

“Yeah, it’s pretty hidden. This is why it’s hard to find. It kind of hides in plain sight.”

Sam turned into the parking lot, and pulled into the space right by the front door, which, due to the warding being at full strength, couldn’t be seen. He turned off the engine and they got out of the car.

Sam opened up the trunk. “There’s actually a garage around the other side, but I have groceries, and it’s easier to bring those in this way, and this is the way you’ll be coming in, anyway. You wanna help, grab a couple of bags, here?”

“Right, sure.” Shann was still looking for, and not seeing, a building, but he grabbed the bags Sam hadn’t gotten, and Sam shut the trunk.

Sam walked a few steps ahead, and opened the door, which was then suddenly visible.

Shann blinked. “That wasn’t there.”

“No, it _was_ there; you just couldn’t see it, because you hadn’t seen it before. You’ll always be able to see it, now.”

“How…?”

“Honestly? _It’s a spell_.” Sam grinned.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking Alastair. *sigh* So much for progress.
> 
> Comments?? ;)


	77. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam introduces Shann to Cas, Jack, and Gabe. Cas finds Dean after his dream.

It was getting to be late in the afternoon. Dean usually cooked dinner for everyone, but he’d told Cas he wanted a nap, so Cas called Antonio’s and ordered pizza, so Dean wouldn’t have to get up until there was food ready.

Sam brought Shann in. He introduced him to Cas and Jack, who were waiting for the pizza man in the War Room. Sam asked Jack to put away the groceries; Jack bounded off into the kitchen with the bags. Then Sam gave Shann a short tour of the main floor, ending in the library, where they found Gabriel.

“Gabe, this is Shann, he’s going to be doing the clerical work, and some of the basic research, fielding the calls from the clients, and managing the database for us.”

“Oh, right. Hey, man. Shann, is it? Is that short for something?” Gabe smiled in a friendly-enough way, but Shann felt a slight dissonance, as if the other man had an undefined issue with him.

“Shannon. My mom’s from Ireland, they named me after the River Shannon.” Shann smiled easily back. “So, Gabe, what do you do, here?”

“Gabe’s the Senior Researcher,” Sam explained. “He’s an expert on, um, pagan gods and their respective mythologies, particularly the Norse pantheon; the Judeo-Christian Bible, particularly the creation mythology; and Heaven and the hierarchy of the angels.”

“Oh, cool, like the Seraphim, the Cherubim, the celestial choir? Like that?”

Gabriel looked vaguely amused. “Yeah, like that.”

“Hey, Gabe, Cas said Dean took a nap, so Cas ordered pizzas. Food should be here shortly. I’m going to show Shann what I want him working on tomorrow, if you wanna go hang out with Cas and Jack,” Sam told the Archangel.

“Yeah, okay, Sammy. I’ll stop intimidating the help and go hang with my bro and nephew. Nice meeting you, Shann,” Gabe gave a little wave, and walked out.

“Um, did I say something wrong? I, ah, sensed a little tension from him. I didn’t mean to piss him off,” Shann said, a little worry creeping into his voice.

“Nah, Gabe’s not pissed. He’s amused. You’ve just gotta get to know him. He's a real trickster, and he can be a little prickly, sometimes. But once you get to know him, seriously, you couldn't ask for a better friend. Don’t worry, and don't let him get to you.

"Okay, so, right now, we’ve got everything on laptops with wi-fi connection to our central server unit, but I want to improve on that, so at the moment, I’m not making upgrades to the software or hardware, just making new entries. Are you familiar with SQL, or Microsoft Access, or any database programs, at all?”

“I’ve used Access. I can’t say I know everything about the coding needed to build a database from scratch, though I’d like to learn; but once one’s been established, I can certainly do the data entry, and keep the new entries going for you,” Shann told him.

“Great. If you see a way to improve what we've been doing, let me know.

"Now, this mess over here,” Sam waved at a stack of paper on a side table, “is the filing that needs to be done; that stack’s about three and a half months’ worth of research inquiries, invoices, etc. If you could get started on that this week, that’d be immensely helpful.

“And then there are the phones. We get a lot of research inquiries by phone. Okay, so the way that typically works is that someone calls with a question, and we usually get two basic kinds of calls. Usually, it’s the first kind of call, which is people calling looking for information about a type of mythological creature. They might say something along the lines of, ‘I’m dealing with a creature that has sharp teeth and drains its victims of blood to kill them; I need to know what it is, how to avoid being killed or hurt by it, and how to kill it.’”

“So, these callers, they're… what, _fiction authors_ , looking for authenticity or consistency in building their characters?” Shann looked confused.

“Um, sure, that, too,” Sam nodded, but didn't explain further. “They give us what they know about the creature, we help them identify it, based on the available lore, and tell them what we know about how to deal with it.”

“Okay… and the other type of call?” Shann asked.

“We do reference verification. If someone calls wanting to check on someone’s qualifications, we’ll verify that they are who they’ve claimed to be. We’ll have a list for you of the people for whom we provide that service. If Dean or Cas or I are around, we can take those calls, at least until you’ve settled in and are more comfortable with the set-up.”

Shann nodded. “You said ‘if you’re around.’ What about if you’re not?”

“Well, I don’t currently have travel plans, but Dean, Cas, and I do travel quite a bit for our work, and sometimes we do have to leave abruptly. As I told the temp agency, you’ll need to be able to work independently, and take the initiative; if you see something that you think needs doing, do it. We all help out around here.”

“Okay.”

Cas stuck his head in the door to let them know that the pizza had arrived. “I’m going to go down and wake Dean.” He left.

“Well, the least we can do is feed you, Shann. Why don’t you grab some pizza, and after dinner, Dean and Jack were going to go for a drive, they can drop you home. So, you think this is a challenge you want to take up?” Sam tensed a little, hoping the answer would be positive.

“Yeah, Sam, this actually seems like it’ll be really interesting. When should I start?” Shann smiled, still looking around and taking in the contents of the library.

Sam relaxed, and grinned. “Tomorrow morning too soon? Whatever time you’re good to go. When I'm here, I usually get up around 5:00 and make the first pot of coffee, go for a run, get dressed, eat breakfast, and I’m in here by around 8:00; but if you want a later start time, that’s fine.”

“How about 9:00 for tomorrow, just in case something goes awry at home, and then we’ll see how it goes from there?”

“Sounds good. Glad to have you with us, man.” Sam led Shann back out to the War Room, where Jack was setting out paper plates, plastic cups, and plasticware, while Gabe was opening up the food containers and pizza boxes.

Suddenly, Gabe got an odd look on his face. “Sam, Cas needs you in Dean’s room. **_Now_**.”

“Going.” Sam took off at a dead run.

“Um, should I…?” Shann looked confused and a bit nonplussed.

“Stay here, they’ll be out soon, I expect,” Gabe told him. “Grab a slice, get some salad.”

“Is Dean okay, Uncle Gabe?” Jack seemed worried

“It’ll be fine, kiddo. Get some dinner.” Gabe was reassuring, yet seemed to be listening to, or for, something only he could hear.

***

Sam slid to a stop outside Dean’s door. “Cas? What’s up?”

Cas was sitting with Dean on the edge of the bed; Dean was sobbing silently, his eyes closed, tears streaming down his face, refusing to open his eyes, to look at Cas, to let Cas comfort him, occasionally shaking his head as if in utter despair. His arms were wrapped around his abdomen as if he were in pain, and he was rocking back and forth, trembling from head to toe.

Cas looked up at Sam helplessly, and raised his hands, palms up, indicating his confusion. "He was fine before he came to lie down, Sam. I found him sitting here, like this, when I came in to wake him for dinner. His pillow is soaked through, as if he'd been crying since he first laid down."

Sam sat down on Dean’s other side, and wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Dean? What’s wrong, man? You gotta talk to me, D. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Dean just shook his head, never raising his face toward Sam, never opening his eyes. His mouth moved silently.

“Dean? Dean! C’mon, dude, you gotta snap out of it. You’ve gotta _talk_ to me, here, D.” Sam shook his brother gently, then tried putting his fingers beneath Dean’s chin to force his face up; Dean shoved his hand away.

“Nooo….” Dean moaned softly.

Cas looked helplessly at Sam, then looked back at Dean. He briefly touched Dean’s forehead, putting him into a safe, deep slumber.

Cas looked up at Sam. “I’ve put Dean to sleep temporarily. _Physically_ , he’s fine, but clearly _something_ has upset him. I’m going to go in to his head here, and see if I can find out what’s wrong, as I did with you the other day.”

“What can I do, Cas?” Sam asked.

“Just stay here, keep an eye out. If something happens, say my name, and tap my arm, just once, like this,” Cas showed Sam how hard to tap, “and I’ll come back out as soon as I can.”

Sam nodded, and Cas went in.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. What's up with Gabe and Shann? *taps chin* 
> 
> Poor Dean. *sniffle* I'm sorry, Dean. I had to be mean to you on your birthday (1/24 - not the date in the story, tho).
> 
> Comment, people! :)


	78. And It Was Good...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas searches Dean's memory palace to find out what happened.

The first thing Cas noticed, once in Dean’s mind, was that the light in Dean’s soul, while still glowing, was now far more muted than it had been when he’d noticed it earlier.

_Interesting. Could be connected._

When he’d gone into Sam’s memory palace, he’d been looking for something that he knew was there, and had been there for some time; he’d essentially gone to near where Sam’s memories that were based on relationships with other people started, and, by walking past most of the doors, fast-forwarded through the recording of Sam’s life, until he saw something approximating what he’d been expecting to see – an open area at the end of a branch off a main hallway, leading to The Cage. He’d been expecting to see that open area because he’d known it was there. He’d created it, when he’d taken the damage to Sam’s mind that being in The Cage had caused. He hadn’t known exactly where he’d find it, because taking Sam’s damage had created some damage in his own mind, and, of course, he’d been reprogrammed by Naomi a few million times. But he’d known it was there, somewhere.

But now, he was simply looking for the _very most recent thing_ Dean had experienced, the thing that had upset Dean so deeply that he had been reduced to a quivering unresponsive mass, nearly catatonic with grief, horror, and pain – the three strongest emotions that Cas had felt upon touching Dean to put him under and let him safely rest. So he glanced into a room at the end of the hallway where he found himself, to gauge how old the Dean in this memory was – and saw a four-year-old carrying a baby out of a burning house. He was at the _wrong end_ of the hall – this was nearly Dean’s _very first_ memory of all.

Cas spread his wings, and flew to the far end of the hall. He glanced into a random room, about five doors from the end of the hall, and saw Dean sleeping – no, _just waking_ – wrapped around…a shirtless version of _himself_. He smiled softly, then shook himself, and squared his jaw. That was a very recent event, so he had to be close. He walked steadily and swiftly to the very end of the hall. He glanced through the open doorway to the left, and saw Dean speaking to him that afternoon, saying he wanted a nap.

He looked at the door to his right. It was closed. He grasped the doorknob, and tried to turn it; it was locked.

_I’m in the right place._

This memory was so painful that, even as Dean was still trying to process it, he’d been so unable to deal with it that he’d locked it away. Cas had to get into this room. Forcing the lock would hurt Dean; he couldn’t do that. But he could try to pick the lock. He had a set of lock-picking tools in the inside pocket of his trench coat; Dean had given it to him as a gift at Christmas. He pulled it out, and got to work.

A moment later, he heard a soft click, and the doorknob turned. He pushed gently on the door, opening it as little as possible, and slid inside. It was dark; while he still had the light from the hallway, he found the penlight flash light Sam had given him at Christmas, and turned it on. Then he gently closed the door. He used the light to look around, but saw…nothing. It was just a dark, apparently empty, room.

_What the…? This can’t be right._

He found the light switch, and flicked it; the overhead light came on. Now, it was a lighted, but still apparently empty, room. And then he heard it – a whimpering, gasping, whine, that occasionally grew into a wail, then subsided. But where was it coming from? As he looked around, he realized the room was not _entirely_ empty – at one end, what he’d thought was a continuation of the wall was actually a _cabinet_ , the door to which had been carved from the wall so that, at a mere glance, one would never notice the seam. But found it, he had.

Cas looked for a way to open the cabinet door; he finally realized he simply had to push gently in on it, and it would pop outward. And inside, he found a large-screen television, with a built-in VCR and DVD player. He realized there was a tape in the VCR. He pushed the rewind button. He let the tape rewind to where it began, then turned on the television, and pushed play.

And he was still confused, because what was on the screen was _this room_ , in the dark. Then he realized that this was a playback of Dean’s dream, and he was seeing it from Dean’s own perspective. He couldn’t see Dean, because it had occurred inside of Dean’s head, and Dean didn’t see himself in his own dreams. But what was so frightening about simply being in a dark room?

_I’m an idiot. It’s not what Dean’s seeing. It’s what he’s **hearing**._

He rewound the tape again, and turned up the volume on the television.

***

_“Well, hello, Dean.”_

_“Alastair.”_ [Oh no. No, no, no.]

_“Fucking an angel now, I hear. Really, Dean, don’t you think Castiel might be just a tiny bit out of your league? Really, what does a former apprentice torturer, a former demon, have to offer a Seraph, eh? Oh, right, that bright-and-shiny soul of yours. Does Castiel know everything you did while working for me, Dean? Does he know how hard you worked to dim your own light?”_

_“Shut up, Alastair. Cas loves me. He knows what I went through, and not only does it not bother him, it’s one of the reasons why he loves me as much as he does, because I was strong enough to get through it.”_ [That’s right, sweetheart!]

_Laughter. “But you weren’t, Dean. Not nearly. I put you back together every day for forty years. Castiel only put you back together once, and by his own account, didn’t really do all that good a job of it. Couldn’t really tell which pieces he needed, so he never weeded out the extras.”_

_“There shouldn’t have been ‘extras,’ you bastard. Those are on you, not Cas.”_ [You tell him, Dean!]

_“Oh, I happily take credit for them, love. You are what I made you, Dean. You always will be. Even if you’d never taken the Mark, you were always coming back to me eventually. You know that, right? What did you learn from Kevin, Dean? Souls who’ve been to Hell – they can never go… where? I mean, even assuming you win, Dean, think about it: hurrah! Chuck’s gone, and Castiel’s needed in Heaven. The Archangels that are sort of left – I mean, let’s face it, Gabe’s been dead a couple of years, and Lucy still is – they’re not strong enough to take over. Jack has power, but no judgment, no experience; he can’t run things effectively. You can’t really trust Amara any more than you can trust Chuck, and it’s doubtful the angels would follow her anyway. So, you win, but Castiel’s no longer by your side. And even if you personally survive the fight, your human lifespan is the blink of an eye to Castiel. He’ll be busy, and, eventually, you’ll die, and you’ll be in Hell… with me, at my side, my apprentice, again. Right where you belong.”_

_“No. No. I don’t believe you.”_ [The room began to shake on screen; Cas realized that Dean was shaking his head, denying what he was hearing. That’s right, baby; you know he’s lying. He’s a demon; demons lie.]

_“Yes, Dean. And that’s the best outcome. That’s assuming you win. Think about if you lose. You won’t be at my side, Dean. You’ll be back on the rack; this time, for eternity. And Castiel won’t be able to save you.”_

_“No. No. You’re not real.”_

_“Best case: you’re in Hell, at my side, back at work torturing others. Worst case: you’re in Hell, on the rack, being tortured. There’s no scenario where you end up in Heaven, Dean. And none where Castiel ends up with you. Face it, Dean. You have nothing to offer him, long-term. Sure, he thinks he loves you – now. But I doubt he’s really looked ahead, into the future, because it’s just so obvious, Dean.”_

_“Nooo….”_

_“I’m doing you a kindness, Dean. I’m telling you the truth. Your little happy family doesn’t last very long. It’s better that you realize it, and harden your heart now, Dean. Because out of all of you, you have the most to lose. And you will lose it, Dean. No matter what. I’m so sorry, Dean. Not that it’s not satisfying to be the one who makes you face reality, but I’ve always been a little fond of you. You always made me work for it, that moment when the pin drops, and you finally realize, you finally believe, what you’ve always known. You’re just not good enough, Dean. You never have been, and you never will be.” Sobs, loud and agonized._

_“Ahh, such delicious tears… Thinking that you could be good enough for an angel. That’s so… optimistic of you, Dean. I really didn’t think you had it in you. Well, that’s all right. You know the truth, now, don’t you, Dean?”_ [The sound of Dean’s breath, hitching. The floor rose up, as, Cas realized, Dean fell to his knees, sobbing.]

***

Static. The recording ended there, because the dream ended there. Because that was the point at which Dean had given up hope. Cas turned off the television and VCR, and shook his head.

_Oh, my poor Dean._

So, what was the source of the whimpering, whining noise? Cas realized he still hadn’t found _that_ , and resumed his search. It had sounded very far away, but _had_ to be in this room.

_Is there another cabinet? No._

The last part of the dream had been Dean falling to his knees.

_He was low to the ground, on the floor._

Cas knelt, and used the flashlight to look around from that lower perspective. And heard the whimper again, louder – or, more accurately, _closer_. Cas bent forward and put his ear to the floor – and then he _saw_. About six inches in front of his left eye, _a very tiny Dean_.

_A Dean so small, he nearly didn’t exist at all. Because that’s how Alastair had made him feel._

Cas closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Dean. I need you to listen to me. I need you to pay attention to me. Alastair lied to you, Dean. He’s a demon, _demons lie_. You know this, Dean.

“Please hear me, my love, my heart. You matter, Dean. You’re _more_ than good enough. I love you. Sam loves you. Gabriel loves you _and welcomed you to the family_. Jack loves you. You matter, and you _belong_. Please, Dean. Come back to me.

“Hear me, Dean. I will not leave you. _I will never leave you_. Not ever. If you go away, _I will come after you_. I won’t leave you alone, Dean.

“I won’t let you end up in Hell. Think about it, Dean; if we were to win, and _I_ was to end up in charge in Heaven, don’t you think I’d change that _stupid_ rule of Chuck’s, and let you and Kevin, and Sam, and anyone else who was good, yet had spent time in Hell, come _upstairs_? Of course I would.

“Dean, _Heaven isn’t Heaven unless you’re with me_.”

Cas felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, and looked up at Dean, full-sized once again.

And Cas saw that the light in Dean’s soul was blazing again.

 _And it was good_.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screw you, Alastair! ;)
> 
> Comments?? :D


	79. Time To Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas theorizes. Donna arrives for movie night.

One second, Cas was in Dean’s memory palace; the next, he was in Dean’s bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. He gasped softly, and Sam reached out to anchor him.

“Cas? Everything all right?” Sam asked.

“It will be, Sam. One moment.” Cas paused to catch his breath, then turned to Dean, and touched his forehead gently, waking him. Dean sat up, gasping.

“ _Thank you_ , Cas.” Dean reached out and gripped Cas’ arm gently.

“Of course, Dean.” Cas put his hand over Dean’s, comfortingly, and smiled at him.

“So, what happened, exactly?” Sam asked.

“Dean had a very nasty dream, Sam.” Cas told him.

“It was fucking _Alastair_ ,” Dean put in.

“Oh. Got it.” Sam nodded.

“Why don’t you go eat, Sam? We’ll be out in a few minutes.” Cas smiled up at Sam.

“If you’re sure?”

“’sok, Sammy. I’ll be all right, now,” Dean told him.

Sam nodded, and left the room.

“Cas? Was that _really_ Alastair? Or just my own subconscious?” Dean asked, wearily.

“Considering the warding on the Bunker, particularly the extra warding that I’ve put on both your room and Sam’s, I’d say it’s unlikely that was really Alastair, Dean.”

“Well, _shit_.”

“I also consider it highly unlikely, with all the substantial progress you’ve been making lately, that your subconscious would choose that particularly vicious manner of striking out at you, Dean. Why Alastair? Why now? If you were going to have dreams about Alastair, you’d have started having them long ago. It doesn’t make sense for that particular dream to have simply come from within you.

“No, I’d say it’s more likely that that was from _Chuck_.”

“Wait… _what_?” Dean’s eyes went wide.

“It’s impossible to ward against God completely, Dean. Chuck knows that we’ll eventually make a play against him, and that you’re likely to be central to it. He’s privy to everything in Heaven and Hell, and that includes Alastair. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him to raid Alastair’s memories to try to find a weapon against you, Dean.

“Besides, did you notice the part where Alastair called me a Seraph _? Alastair_ would have no way of knowing that that’s what I am now. Only a very few individuals actually have knowledge of that promotion, Dean – and most of them are in this Bunker. _Except for the one who promoted me_.”

“Chuck.” Dean said, grimly.

Cas nodded. “Indeed.”

Dean sighed. He sat up, and leaned against Cas’ side. “ _Thank you_.”

“You’re very welcome.” Cas smiled and put an arm around Dean’s shoulder, tugging him a little closer.

“ _I’m sorry_.” Dean’s voice was very small and quiet.

“For _what_ , sweetheart?”

“For _doubting_. For not knowing that, _of course_ , you’d change the rules if you were in charge. I should have realized, Cas.”

“Well, now you know. Do you think you’d be okay if I went to Wyoming tomorrow, Dean?”

“ _Wyoming_?” Dean’s face went blank. “For _what_?”

“To get my things from the cabin and break my lease, so I can come _home_. I think it’s time.”

Cas turned his head and kissed Dean, and Dean, suddenly understanding, surged back against Cas, returning the kiss.

***

Donna pulled into Jody’s driveway at 8:59 pm by the clock on her dashboard. “Nailed it!”

She turned off the engine, and jumped out, grabbed her bag, and closed the door. She headed toward the house, and saw that Claire was waiting in the doorway. Donna waved, and hurried to give Claire a hug.

“Hey! Did you lose weight, Claire? Are those new jeans?” Donna grinned.

“I lost maybe two pounds, mostly because _Alex hogs all the Chinese food._ And yes, these _are_ new; I had to get practically new _everything_ , hunting takes a toll on clothes.”

“Oh, you betcha, it really does. I’ve gone through three jackets in the last year, always gettin’ scratched or bitten or somethin’.”

Claire pulled Donna into the house.

“So, is the new foster child here yet?” Donna asked.

“Yes, Amy’s upstairs. I’m not sure if Alex put her to bed yet; they were going to read for a while.” Claire explained.

“You’ll meet Amy tomorrow, Donna,” Jody said, coming in for her own hug. “And I’ll explain the situation _later_.”

“Oh, there’s a _situation_ , eh?”

“Yeah. An _our-kind-of-situation_ , situation. Related to that case in Wisconsin that Sam and Dean were working.”

“Oh, I gotcha. We’ll talk later, then, hey? _Okay_. What’s _this_?” Donna asked, as Claire handed her an envelope.

“Open it,” Claire told her, grinning.

“Okay. Is it my birthday? Did I forget?” Donna joked, as she slit the envelope’s end open with her finger. She pulled out the card, and read the front, which was an oddly bland “thinking of you” type of sentiment. Then she opened it, and saw the cashier’s check, and, since there was no chair behind her, sat right down on the floor as her knees gave out.

“ _Oofta_ ,” she said, softly. “What’s _this_ , then, hey?”

“It’s a gift, Donna. My dad’s life insurance company finally paid out, just over eight million dollars, and so I wanted to share the wealth a little. I gave money to Sam, Dean, Cas, Jody, and Alex, too. You guys, you’re my family, and I love you all so much,” Claire explained.

“Well, thank you. But so _much_ , hon? _Are you sure_ , sweetie?” Donna asked, tilting her head to look up at Claire, and wrinkling her nose just a little.

“Definitely.” Claire grinned, and helped her up.

“ _Oofta_! Well, okay, then. If you’re sure.” Donna gave Claire a hug. “So, how much of a hassle did Dean give you about taking his share?”

Claire and Jody both hooted with laughter.

“How’d you know it was _Dean_ that hassled me?” Claire asked. “I mean, it _was_ , but how’d you know?”

“Oh, I know how Dean thinks. That boy. He’d give the world for anyone he cares about, but heaven forbid _you_ try giving _back_. Hoo boy, that’s a stubborn man, there, hey.”

Claire giggled. “He really is. Actually, Cas gave me trouble, too. He set _conditions_.”

“Oh, well. Figures that those two would be the ones. Alike as two peas in a pod, sometimes. _Conditions_ , eh? _Oofta mata_. Like someone can’t just give him a gift without strings; he’s gotta go and _put strings on it_. Silly angel.” Donna shook her head and rolled her eyes, smiling fondly. “So… movies? What do we have?

“And where’s _Alex_? Get her _down_ here, and let’s get this party _started_!”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Cas' theory makes some sense, huh? ;)
> 
> So, what movie should our ladies watch first?
> 
> Please comment!! :)


	80. Movie Marathons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls watch movies. Cas plans a trip and asks Gabe to keep an eye out.

Two hours later, Claire was standing on the couch, hairbrush in hand, using it as a microphone to sing along – badly – with Jenny Lind as PT Barnum watched from the sidelines. “Never, never! Never, never! Never enough! For me, for me! For me!”

As the song ended, she collapsed in giggles on the couch, accidentally kicking Jody (who was on the floor, leaning back against the couch) in the shoulder. Jody paused the DVR, and then she and Donna immediately started tickling Claire. All three of them laughed until their sides ached - again.

“Shhh. You guys are too loud. Amy’s asleep; she’s been really sick, she needs her rest,” Alex came down the stairs to rejoin them, having gone up to use the bathroom and check on Amy.

“Okay, okay. We need more popcorn.” Claire got up and grabbed the large bowl from the floor.

“Ooh, put in some of those chocolate doodads in with it this time,” Donna said.

Claire nodded and went to the kitchen.

“I’m putting on coffee. Anybody else want?” Alex asked.

“Me!” Jody raised her hand.

“Ohh, you betcha, me too!” Donna raised hers, as well.

Alex nodded, and followed Claire.

“So, Jody, while it’s just us, what’s the deal with the four-year-old foster, hon?” Donna asked.

“You remember the case Sam and Dean had?”

“Yeah, sure, we got them the accident report, and they stopped by and took me to lunch. Dean yelled at me for taking Doug’s bullshit, which is how I got the courage to tell Doug off.”

“Right. Well, there were three accident victims listed on that report, but there were actually four people in the car. Amy was the fourth. She was thrown.”

“But that accident happened thirty years ago, Jodes.”

“Yes, yes, it did. The reason the family was in the car was that Amy’s parents were taking her to the ER. They didn’t know what had happened, they just knew that she was unresponsive, and her sister had seen something. Amy had been implanted with a shtriga baby, it puts the host child into stasis, and the baby and the host have a symbiotic relationship until the shtriga baby is fully grown – just over thirty years later. On the way to the ER, they had the crash; the parents and Amy’s sister died, and Amy was thrown from the vehicle, and kidnapped by a vila. Both vila and shtriga are Slavic mythological creatures, and the vila recognized the shtriga in Amy and realized what she had. She’d wanted a child, now she had the chance to have two.

“So, all this time, Amy’s been in stasis. She could see and hear, but couldn’t move or grow. The shtriga baby grew out of her back, then carried Amy on _her_ back. The vila home-schooled the shtriga, but never tried to teach Amy anything, just ignored her. And when the shtriga was full grown, and Amy fell off onto the ground, and out of the stasis, the vila tried to convince her that she really was just the vila’s four-year-old daughter. Then the shtriga started feeding from her, and she ended up in the hospital.”

“Whoa. So, she’s a thirty-four year old in a four-year-old’s body, never had an education, obviously can’t pass as an adult. I assume that being treated like a child is probably irritating to her, huh?” Donna asked.

“Yep. We had a chat about that this afternoon, actually. She knows she needs _help_ , but… yeah, it’s a mess. The vila’s dead, Sam and Dean took care of that. The shtriga is no longer feeding on children, so that’s taken care of, too. But Amy is on her own now, her real family’s been dead for thirty years, but she remembers them like it was just last week. So, here she is. It may irritate her, but she needs our help.”

“Oh, absolutely. If you want, I can start coming every few weekends, help out. I can be ‘cool Aunt Donna’ who just treats her like an adult and lets her vent.”

“I think she’d appreciate that. I mean, she can vent to us, too, but not about _us_.” Jody grinned.

***

Jack zipped past Dean and Cas into the Bunker from the garage.

“I don’t get it. How does that kid always have that much _energy_?” Dean groused, fondly.

They’d gone for a drive after dinner, dropped Shann at his home, then let Jack practice out on the backroads again. They’d taken a different route, and not had pie, but it had still been a nice chance to get out. Dean and Cas had been in the back seat, so Jack could drive and Shann could hop out easily at his place, and after a while, Dean had relaxed, trusting Jack’s driving, and leaned up against Cas. They’d held hands. Dean thought they’d been subtle enough, but he expected they’d have to have a chat with Jack soon.

“So, you’re gonna go back to Wyoming in the morning?”

“Yes, Dean. I’ll fly there, pack up my things, break my lease, and get my truck, then drive back. It’s about a thirteen hour drive, straight through. I’ll be back here the next day.”

“Okay.”

“Did you have a chance to journal today, Dean?” Cas asked.

“No, not since last night, when I wrote the letters to Ben and Emma.”

“Why don’t you take a little time and do that now, before bed, then? I need to talk to Gabe about a couple of things, and then I’ll come and find you.” Cas smiled softly.

“Okay,” Dean smiled back, but it didn’t quite fully reach his eyes. He went down the hall toward his bedroom. Cas headed for the library.

Gabe was working on another translation. He wasn’t much of a morning person, and found it easier to focus on tasks in the evening hours. But when Cas came in, he was ready for a break.

“Hey, Cassie. How’s Dean?”

“Hello, Gabriel. I believe Dean will be all right, but that was a little too close.”

“So, you think it was Chuck?”

Cas nodded. “I do. How many entities would you say knew that I had been promoted to Seraph, Gabe?”

Gabe thought about it. “Me. Lucifer. Raphael knew. The Michael from Apocalypse World might have recognized you for what you are, but he’s gone. You weren’t promoted until after our world’s Michael fell into The Cage with Sam, so he wouldn’t have known about it. Metatron and Zachariah knew, but they’ve both been dead a long time. Unless you said something, it’s unlikely that the rest of the lower-ranking angels would be able to tell just by looking, so, just… whoever you told, if anyone. Sam and Dean know, obviously. Jack. The Cosmic Entity. Amara… and Chuck.”

Cas nodded again. “I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it to anyone. And of those twelve entities – or, of the ones who are still around, that is – who would pose as Alastair in order to attack Dean in his dreams?”

“Just Chuck. Unless Auntie Amara is on his side. But Amara has a soft spot for Dean-o. Yeah, this has more of his stink than hers, I agree.”

“I believe it’s time I moved back into the Bunker. I was keeping my cabin in case I still felt the need for space, but I don’t need it, and Dean needs me here. So, I’m going to Wyoming in the morning to pack my things, break my lease, and get my truck. I’ll drive back, so I should be back by late in the day on Sunday. You’ll keep an eye on things here?”

“Of course. I _can_ be serious when the situation warrants, Cassie.”

“I know, Gabe. Do me a favor? Make Dean _laugh_. He won’t want to. But he _needs_ it. And you’re better at that than I am.”

“At what?”

“ _Humor_. I too often don’t get the joke. I might get the references now, thanks to Metatron’s pop culture dump into my brain, but I don’t always understand levity. You do.”

“No problem, little brother. I’ll make Dean watch a Monty Python marathon with me, and I’ll get him to make fun of Crowley with me during it.” Gabe grinned.

Cas chuckled. “He did sometimes sound like one of their characters, didn’t he? But Dean was friendly with Crowley, and that might remind him of Crowley’s sacrifice of himself to save me. That might not be the best way to go, Gabe.”

“Okay. You’re right. Well, I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry, Cas. I’ll get Dean laughing.”

“Without being mean to Sam, Gabe.”

“I’m never mean to _Sam_! Um… I mean… I’m not _mean_ , Cassie.”

“Two words, Gabe: _Mystery Spot_.”

“I’m _never_ gonna hear the end of _that_ , am I?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, please??? :)


	81. Today's Journal Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean journals about his horrible, terrible, awful, no-good day - and manages to see the good.

Dean got his notebook and pen out. He opened it to a blank page. And then he stared at it. And stared at it. And then stared at it some more.

And then he finally uncapped his pen, and started writing.

***

**_Friday evening_ **

_I sat here looking at the blank page for longer than I ever have before._

_In the past, it’s been because I was intimidated by the thought of having to fill the emptiness._

_This time, it was because I didn’t even want to think about the things I’d have to fill it **with** : the death of my daughter, whom I’ve kept a secret from the world, including Cas; Lucifer kidnapping Sam to offer assistance, of all things; and my dreams being invaded by Alastair – or a reasonable facsimile thereof, at least. _

_Basically, the last 24 hours have been a horrorfest in my head, and I really don’t want to write about it – and that means I **have** to. So, here goes._

_After writing the letters to Ben and Emma last night, I talked to Cas about Emma; he already knew about Ben, but I’d never told him about my baby girl before. And then I remembered the Amy Pond incident, so I told him about that, too._

_In telling Cas about the deaths of Emma and Amy, I realized that Emma really is the only thing about which I do not ever talk to Sam. I never have. I know he was trying to protect me when he shot her, but he was getting revenge on me for Amy, too. His revenge was more important to him than his own niece – my daughter._

_**I had a daughter**. For less than two weeks, but she was born, and she was, no question, **mine**. And I loved her. Still do. Always will._

_I am still angry with Sam about her, and that’s why I don’t talk to him about it. Which probably means I should, and probably means Mia will tell me to. Honestly, until I told Cas about her, I’d never breathed a word to **anyone** about Emma._

_When I was telling Cas about her, I started to cry. I had this fleeting thought that maybe I shouldn’t tell Cas, maybe he’d be jealous, or hurt that I’d never mentioned her before, or upset in some other way over the fact that I had a daughter that I’d kept a secret from him. But he didn’t get mad, didn’t get upset. He just gathered me in and held me. He listened, he cared, he comforted me._

_Then Lucifer kidnapped Sam to a pocket dimension for the purposes of volunteering his assistance. Sam came back and told us about it, obviously. Turns out Luci bore the Mark of Cain for millennia – even while Cain had it, and I had it – right up until his death; now that it’s gone, he says it’s no longer corrupting him, and so, now, he wants to stop being the bad guy, I guess._

_Lucifer took Sam to a pocket dimension to talk to him in order to keep Chuck away from their discussion. And Gabe shielded our meeting about Lucifer’s offer, along with the Bunker’s own warding._

_But after the meeting, I got so **tired**. I felt like I was going to pass out where I sat, and by the time I got to my room, I was so tired I was **dizzy**. I’ve been tired. Hell, I’ve been **exhausted**. But I’ve **never** felt like **that** before. Should’ve been a clue._

_I fell asleep, and dreamt of Alastair; but not the Alastair of my past. This wasn’t a memory kind of dream, the kind where you relive a bad experience. This was more like Alastair actually came to visit, to tell me things he wanted me to know – to break me, to be honest. And it almost worked. Would have, but for **Cas**._

_In the dream, Alastair set up two scenarios for the future – one where we win, and Chuck’s gone – and Cas has to run Heaven. And because I’ve been to Hell, I couldn’t go with him upstairs, and even if I lived, my lifespan’s a blink to Cas, and I’d be going back to Hell when I died. And that’s the **best-case** scenario. In the worst-case, we **lose** , and I end up not just in Hell, but back on the rack – with no deal available, and Cas unable to save me. No matter what, Alastair said, there was no scenario where I got to have Cas long-term. He said that what we have, our family, won’t last very long, that it was better for me to realize it and harden my heart now, because I have the most to lose, and I will lose it all._

_He painted a horrifying picture, and made me see it, made me believe it. He had me believing, again, that I’m just not good enough. **He had me on my knees**. He made me feel small, insignificant. In the dream, I shrank to about the size of a pea. That’s about how big I felt by the time he was done with me._

_I woke up, but I was practically catatonic. Cas and Sam came in, and I knew they were **there** , but they were **distorted** ; I could **almost** hear them, but it was like the song – ‘you are only coming through in waves, your lips move, but I can’t hear what you say’ – I know **exactly** what that means now. They couldn’t reach me. So, Cas went into my head._

_He figured out what had happened, he found me, and he told me the truth. And I will never forget what he told me._

_He said: “Dean. I need you to listen to me. I need you to pay attention to me. Alastair lied to you, Dean. He’s a demon, demons lie. You know this, Dean. Please hear me, my love, my heart. You matter, Dean. You’re more than good enough. I love you. Sam loves you. Gabriel loves you and welcomed you to the family. Jack loves you. You matter, and you belong. Please, Dean. Come back to me. Hear me, Dean. I will not leave you. I will never leave you. Not ever. If you go away, I will come after you. I won’t leave you alone, Dean. I won’t let you end up in Hell. Think about it, Dean; if we were to win, and I was to end up in charge in Heaven, don’t you think I’d change that stupid rule of Chuck’s, and let you and Kevin, and Sam, and anyone else who was good, yet had spent time in Hell, come upstairs? Of course I would. **Dean, Heaven isn’t Heaven unless you’re with me**.”_

_That brought me out of it. And that means I really have made progress. Because as soon as Cas said it, I believed it, knew it to be true, understood it, accepted it. Thank you, Cas._

_And of course, he’s right: demons lie. The lie isn’t about the existence of the rule. It exists – presently, someone whose soul has been to Hell cannot enter Heaven. And clearly that lets out both me and Sam. And that’s why the dream was convincing._

_The lie is that the rule can never change. And of course, if Cas were in charge, it **would** change._

_I asked Cas if it was really Alastair, or my own subconscious. His theory, though, was that it was **neither** – it was **Chuck**. And that makes sense. I mean, why would Alastair only be showing up in my dreams now, eleven years later? As Cas said, if he was going to show up, he would have, a long time ago. That lets out my subconscious. And the Bunker is warded really well against demons – and Alastair in particular – and Cas has put extra warding on the bedrooms, particularly mine and Sam’s. So it’d be really hard for the real Alastair to get in; and again, why bother now, when he never has before? Ah, but Chuck, he has reason, a motive to come after me. He’s powerful enough to slip through the wardings. He has access to both Heaven and Hell, so he could have raided Alastair’s memories to get what he needed. And the last, most selling point – in my dream, Alastair knew that Cas had been promoted to Seraph. Very few beings knew that, and Chuck was one of them. The real Alastair wasn’t._

_And then Cas asked if I would be all right if he went to **Wyoming**. And I didn’t get it, just had no inkling of what he was trying to say; all I got was that he wanted to leave. And I just said, “Wyoming?” and he said he wanted to go pack up his things, break the lease on his cabin, get his truck, and drive back. **Because he thought it was time that he came home**. And then he kissed me._

_I’m not entirely sure that he thinks I’m ready. He might just be feeling protective. Either way, I’ll take it. I’ll just have to be really careful to continue to treat him as he deserves to be treated. I don’t want to hurt Cas again, so I have to stop myself from doing it._

_After that, Cas and I let Jack take us for another drive. We dropped Sam’s new assistant, Shann, off at his home – he officially starts tomorrow, but he came in today for a tour and to meet everyone – and then went out on the backroads to let Jack practice. Cas and I were both in the backseat, so we got to cuddle a little, subtly. Don’t want to do too much in front of the kid._

_We got back, and Cas suggested that I write, and said he needed to speak to Gabe. I’m guessing he’s asking Gabe to keep an eye on things here, especially me, while he’s gone. Used to be, that would have pissed me off. Now I know it’s just because he cares. And hey, if you’ve got an Archangel for a brother, use him to protect the ones you love, right?_

_So, yeah. It’s been a day. A horrible, fucked-up, awful day. But it had its high points, too._

_**Cas saying he wants to come home was the best of those**. Because I get it, now. He didn’t say he wanted to return to the Bunker. _

_He said he wanted to come home._

_**To me**. I am his home, and he is mine._

_I am more than good enough. And he will always come for me. I know, because he told me so._

_I am in love with an Angel. He is in love with me._

_**Hallefuckin’lujah**._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROGRESS CONTINUES! :D
> 
> Please comment? *sniffle*


	82. Boop Your Nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas discuss the next 'just one new thing.' Gabe and Sam chat.

Dean was just recapping his pen when Cas knocked softly on the door. He grinned.

“Cas, I told you, man, you don’t have to knock. You can just come in.”

Cas pushed the door open. “What if you needed privacy, Dean? You’ve always had concerns regarding my invasion of your personal space. I’m just trying to be respectful.” Cas stepped in, and closed and locked the door behind him. He looked over at Dean, and reminded him, “Gabe’s in residence.”

“Yeah, I get it, Cas. But I don’t need privacy from you, any more, man. You want to stand right behind me while I’m brushing my teeth? _Go for it_. You want to read my journal? _Fine by me_. You want to sleep in my bed, with me wrapped around you? _Let’s go_.” Dean smiled sweetly at Cas.

“I only want to read your journal if you want me to, like your letter to Emma, last night. Those are your private thoughts, Dean.”

“And that’s what I’m _telling_ you, Cas. Even my private thoughts aren’t just for me, now. I demanded personal space before, because I was _hiding_. I hid from the way I felt about you for _eleven years_ , Cas. I hid my feelings from you, from Sam, from myself. Because I was afraid that you would reject me. I’m not afraid of that, now. I’m _tired_ of hiding. I’m _tired_ of being afraid. I don’t _need_ a rigid personal space bubble, Cas. _I want to let you in_.”

“I _am_ in, Dean.” Cas stepped over so he was standing right next to Dean’s chair.

“ _Yes, you are_.” Dean stood up, and took the half-step needed to take Cas into his arms, as he hugged the angel. Cas brought his arms up and around Dean, as well.

“Are you sure you’re all right with me leaving in the morning? I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Cas said.

“I’m fine with it, Cas.” Dean leaned back, still smiling. “You asked Gabe to keep an eye on things, right?”

“Um, yes, I did. I hope you don’t mind….”

“Cas, I get it. You care, he’s powerful, I got attacked today. Honestly, I’m glad Gabe’s around. And not just because he makes a mean oatmeal scotchie.” Dean grinned. “I told you, _I trust your judgment_ , Cas. I meant that.”

Cas smiled. “Thank you, Dean.”

“But since you’re going to be gone….” Dean trailed off.

“Yes?” Cas inquired.

“Well, I was thinking. We did just one new thing night before last. And last night, we talked about Emma, and we didn’t do anything else. So, if we do just one new thing tonight, and tomorrow you’re gone, that keeps us at the same pace.”

“Ahh. I see. Do you have a suggestion for a new thing for tonight?”

“Well, the other night, we went _shirtless_ , and that was okay. I was thinking that maybe tonight we could just be….”

“ _Naked_? But still nothing more than snuggling and sleeping?”

Dean nodded. “If that’s all right with you, Cas.”

“It’s fine with me, Dean. Should we start the same way as the other night? We each go get ready, and meet back here in our pjs? And then we can go from there, as we’re each comfortable?” Cas suggested.

“Sounds good, Cas.” Dean smiled, with relief that Cas was in tune with moving so slowly.

Cas saw the relief, but didn’t comment on it; he just reached up and stroked Dean’s hair, as he leaned in for a kiss. Dean kissed back, entirely comfortable now with kissing Cas.

Cas leaned back, then darted forward again to plant a kiss on the end of Dean’s nose. “ _Boop_.”

“Cas…did you just…”

“Boop your nose? _Indeed_.” Cas smiled serenely.

Dean laughed. Guffawed. Snorted. Threw back his head, and let it roll out of him. Still laughing, he wiped his eyes, and leaned in to kiss Cas’ cheek. “Thank you.”

Cas grinned. “You’re very welcome.”

“C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.” Dean got his things together and headed for the bathroom, still chuckling to himself every now and then.

Cas made a score mark in the air with his finger. “ _Angel, **one**. Demon-dream attacker, **zero**_.” He grinned, then gathered his own things to follow Dean to the bathroom.

***

Gabe was still working on his translation in the library when he heard Dean’s laughter down the hall.

“ _Go, Cassie_. I think you sell yourself short, little brother,” he murmured. He raised his coffee mug as a toast, but then discovered it was empty. He got up and headed to the kitchen for a refill, and found Sam making a fresh pot.

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Hey, Gabe, coffee’ll be ready in a minute. How’s the translation coming along?”

“Slowly. But it should be ready by tomorrow. So, I guess Dean’s feeling a little better.”

“Yeah, I heard that laughter, too. Cas is good for him.” Sam smiled.

“They’re good for _each other_.

“By the way, I don’t know if he mentioned it to you, but, I, um… kinda officially welcomed Dean to the family. I mean, there isn’t much of a family _left_ , but I guess I’m the head of it, now. Weird. But, y’know. Oldest remaining sibling. Apart from the two in your brain, obviously…. Um, but… anyway, I was thinking… you should consider yourself, um, _welcome_ , too. As a part of the family. I mean, if you want. I mean, it’s not like you _weren’t_. Either of you. But… Anyway, yeah.”

“Um, wow. Thanks, Gabe. Not exactly sure how I qualify, but I appreciate it.”

“Well, you’re one of Jack’s dads, and you’re Dean’s brother, which I guess kinda makes you Cas’ brother-in-law. So. There. Yeah.”

“And I’m Lucifer’s true vessel, even if I’ll never say ‘yes’ again to him, and he and Michael are in my brain currently.”

“Well, yeah, but technically, those two are dead,” Gabe pointed out.

“And yet Luce is still capable of pulling me into a private pocket dimension,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, about that. I should apologize, Sam. I meant to put up more protections sooner.”

“Well, but Lucifer isn’t outside the Bunker, Gabe. It wasn’t a matter of keeping him _out_. It was a matter of not letting him control me so that I walk outside unwittingly, and he grabs me into another reality.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m still sorry. He shouldn’t have been able to take you like that. So, I upgraded the wardings on the outside of the Bunker and the parking lot, too.”

“You didn’t make it so Shann won’t be able to find the place in the morning, did you?” Sam asked.

“Um… no. I mean, _not intentionally_ , and I’m sure by the time he gets here, it’ll be fine.”

“ _Gabe_ ….”

“I’m just not sure about this Shann guy, Sam. I mean, what do we know about him, really?” Gabe insisted.

“Gabe. He got the job through a _temp agency_. You think demons or Chuck or any one of our other enemies is bothering to run a _temp agency_ on the off chance that _Sam Winchester needs clerical help_? C’mon. He’s just a _guy_ , coming here to do a job. And it would be a lot easier on everyone if you didn’t give him a hard time. Seriously, Gabe, we need the help.”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re right. There really wasn’t anything about him, _personally_ , I guess. It’s just the _situation_ , Sam.”

“I know. But we’ve got it under control, Gabe. And if he can get the filing situation under control, as well, so much the better. Right?”

“Yeah.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I really wasn't intending to go down the Sabriel road, here, but at least one reader already commented that there was a vibe, and it seems to be getting stronger, without my express intention. Gabe just seems to be leaning that way. But Sam is still oblivious. 
> 
> So, gentle readers, I'm putting it to a vote - majority of the first five voters wins:   
> ___ Yes, Sabriel should be a thing -   
>  \- or -   
> ___ No, Sam and Gabe are not a thing?
> 
> Comment!!!!! :)


	83. Nervous Sleeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's nervous energy dissipates when Jack comes to him with a question. It comes back a little when Sam and Jack leave Cas and Dean alone.

Dean sat nervously on the edge of the bed, tapping his foot, wearing his Christmas-themed flannel pjs – hey, he needed to do a load of laundry, okay? – waiting for Cas to return. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous; this was good, it was perfect, this was his choice, his suggestion. He didn’t want – _wasn’t going_ – to back out. But he was nervous.

He heard a soft knock on the door. “Just come _in_ , Cas!” he laughed.

But it wasn’t Cas. It was Jack.

“Oh, Jack. Hi. C’mon in, kiddo. What’s up?” Dean asked, waving him in.

“Hey, Dean. I was just wondering… Sam was home-schooling me, before, and I’m pretty sure that I’m caught up with the high school juniors. But Chuck killed me, and, now, I know we have a fight with Chuck coming, but Sam once told me that once someone stops learning, they _die_. And now Sam’s busy. So busy, he had to hire Shann, who is cool, but it kinda makes me think that since Sam’s doing all this stuff and is so busy, that he won’t have time to home-school me. And much as I love Uncle Gabe, I don’t think he’d do a very good job of it, and you and Dad are busy a lot, too. And now Dad’s going to Wyoming. So….”

“So… what’s the question, Jack?” Dean smiled.

“Do you think that when the new semester starts up in January, I could attend the high school?” Jack asked. “I thought you might be the best person to ask, because I figured you’d always been in charge of registering you and Sam for school, so you’d know how to do it.”

“I know how, sure. But I think you should check with Sam, Jack. He might surprise you. Some of what he’s busy with might be plans for what to teach you next. Now, I don’t know that for sure, but it’s possible, so just check, okay?” Dean advised.

“Okay. Thanks, Dean.”

“Sure thing.”

Dean heard another knock. “Come in?” he called.

It was Sam.

“Oh, hey, Sam, we were just talking about you. Jack here has a question for you.” Dean nudged Jack’s arm.

“Oh? Hey, Jack. What’s up, kiddo?” Sam asked.

“Hey, Sam. I was just wondering… I mean, you were home-schooling me, before, and I’m pretty sure that I’m caught up with the high school juniors. But then Chuck killed me, and, now, I know we have a fight with Chuck coming, but you once told me that once someone stops learning, they _die_. But now you’re so _busy_ , you had to hire Shann, who is cool, but it kinda makes me think that since you’re doing all this stuff, that you won’t have time to home-school me. And much as I love Uncle Gabe, I don’t think he’d do a very good job of it, and Dean and Dad are busy a lot, too. And now Dad’s going to Wyoming. So, the question is, do you think that when the new semester starts up in January, I could attend the high school?”

“Oh. Well. If you want to, sure. But I was thinking we could get a lot done with a couple of field trips, just you and I. But you probably want to make some friends, have the school experience, and that’s fine, it’s great, you should….”

“Sam, he’s asking if you _want_ to keep teaching him, or if you’re _too busy_ to work with him.” Dean smirked at his brother.

“Oh. Oh! Jack, I totally _want_ to keep teaching you, if that’s what _you_ want. I’ll never be too busy for you, kiddo!” Sam hugged Jack.

Jack’s whole face lit up, and he bounced up and down.

Just then, Cas walked in, without knocking, also in Christmas-themed flannel pjs (he had more laundry to do than Dean).

Sam put two and two together, and got four, so he told Jack that now might actually be a good time to discuss lesson plans, and ushered Jack out of the bedroom, then stuck his head back in to tell Dean, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning.”

Cas closed the door on the hallway, and locked it, then looked over at Dean, who wasn’t nervous anymore.

“Crisis?” Cas inquired.

“Jack thought Sam was too busy to continue with home schooling him. Crisis averted.” Dean told him.

“Ahh.” Cas came over and sat down next to Dean, and leaned against him. “Our pjs match.”

Dean put an arm around Cas’ shoulders and hummed in agreement. “They do. We have equally bad taste.”

Cas chuckled. “Or equally bad laundry timing.”

“Or both.” Dean chuckled, too.

“Or _both_. One more reason why we’re perfect together.” Cas smiled quietly.

Dean turned and bent his head just slightly, and kissed Cas softly. “Hello again.”

“Hello.” Cas reached up and started unbuttoning Dean’s pj shirt. “I hope you don’t mind my presumption, but you look like you’re feeling hot, Dean. Wouldn’t want you to get overheated.”

“Right, right, of course not. Good plan.” Dean winked, and started to unbutton Cas’ pj shirt in return. “You look a little too warm, as well.”

“Oh, well, by all means, then.” Cas grinned.

They each pulled the shirts off, and tossed them on the floor. Cas scooted backward, putting him on “his” side of the bed, and stretched out on his side, facing Dean. Dean laid down, and rolled to face Cas.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too.”

“So why am I nervous?”

“I don’t know. We’ve gotten this far before. Were you nervous _then_?” Cas asked.

“A little. Mostly because I still didn’t think I could quite trust it then.”

“And what happened? What made it click for you, then, Dean?”

“You did. You scooted back into my chest, wrapped your arm around me, and told me to go to sleep.”

“And why did that work?”

“Because you kept your promise, that it would be _just_ the one new thing, and we wouldn’t rush, we’d just snuggle, and sleep, and that would be _it_.”

“And that’s all we’ll do _now_ , too, Dean. We don’t have to go further in undressing each other than this, if you don’t want to.” Cas reached out and ran a comforting hand up Dean’s arm, slowly.

Dean took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I want to. I trust this. I trust _you_ , Cas.”

“Should I go first? Would you be more comfortable with you still having your pants on at first?” Cas asked.

“Maybe.” Dean nodded.

Cas rolled onto his back, lifted his hips, and shimmied the pj pants down his legs, and off. They joined the shirts in the pile on the floor. Then he rolled back to face Dean, and took Dean’s hand in his. “As much or as little as you’re comfortable with, Dean.”

Dean nodded again. He traced Cas’ hip with one finger, then ran the finger down Cas’ thigh. Cas didn’t shrink from his touch, but didn’t sink into it, either. He simply let Dean do as he wished, and Dean slowly relaxed, just tracing the line back and forth, hip to knee.

Dean sat up, slowly, and slid off his own pj bottoms. Then he laid back down, onto his back. Cas stayed put, merely breathing, until Dean relaxed again, and rolled toward him. Then Cas reached out and with one finger traced the same line on Dean’s leg. Dean shivered, but smiled.

“Is this okay, Dean?”

“Perfect. ‘s _perfect_.”

Cas smiled softly. He rolled away, and scooted back carefully, leaving a little room between his back and Dean’s chest. He closed his eyes, and waited.

Dean realized that he knew what to do. He scooted _forward_ , bringing his chest against Cas’ back. He wrapped an arm around Cas, and closed his eyes.

“Good night, my heart,” Cas whispered.

“Good night, angel,” Dean whispered back.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes Cas, keeping promises again. *fans self* So hot. ;)
> 
> Comments???


	84. The Angel In My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean try about 20 new things all at once, and they all work just fine. Gabe makes an admission to Sam.

In the night, one or both of them had squirmed to get closer or more comfortable; Dean’s knee had hitched up over and come to rest on top of Cas’ thigh, causing Dean’s hip to press into Cas’. 

Dean awoke hard. He tried taking deep breaths, but each time he inhaled, his tip got a little closer to the cleft between Cas’ cheeks.

Cas, still sleepy, and snuggly with it, squirmed back against Dean, and the tip pushed his cheeks apart a bit. Cas moaned softly, and squirmed back even more, his cheeks parting further.

Dean whimpered, sure Cas was inadvertently going to kill him. And yet, Dean’s nervousness from the night before was gone. He knew that whether he decided to go further, or to put a stop to it, either way, Cas would be fine, would understand. And that gave him permission to let himself do as he pleased. Which was to ask Cas if he pleased, too, thank you very much.

“Cas. Need you to wake up, baby.”

“Mmm. ‘Sup, love?” Cas squirmed again. “Mmm. _Nice_.”

“Is this okay, Cas? Do you want me to?”

“Mmhmm. Wanted you to for a long time. If you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Dean raised himself up on one arm, and reached with the other to the nightstand’s drawer. He rummaged a moment, then settled back down carefully.

Cas carefully opened one eye and glanced back over his shoulder. “You don’t need either of those, y’know.”

Dean looked at the bottle of lubricant and the condom packet in his hands. “Hmm? Sure I do, Cas.”

“No, no, you really don’t. You for sure don’t need the condom. We’re both clean, and certainly neither of us can get pregnant.”

“Okay, but Cas, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve got to prep you,” Dean cautioned.

Cas smiled. “Dean, you won’t hurt me. _Grace_ , remember? _Instant heal?_ ”

“I don’t want you to have to _heal_ from what I do, no matter how instantly. I want you _not to be hurt in the first place_ , Angel. And maybe I just want to do **_this_** , did you ever think of that?” Dean asked, as he slowly, gently, slid one lubed finger into Cas.

“Mmmphm.” Cas squirmed back a little more, and moaned. “ _Ohhh_ \- okay… Dean,” he gasped.

“Okay, Angel?”

“Mmmhmmm…. Mo-o-ore,” Cas stammered.

Dean had to admit, he was a little _proud_ of the ability to make his angel stammer.

A second finger was added, and Cas squirmed back a little more. Dean kissed Cas’ shoulder, moving the fingers gently. Cas moaned again.

Dean could feel Cas stretching around his fingers, more than the movement would normally cause.

“You’re cheating, Angel,” he whispered, kissing Cas’ neck.

A third finger slid in, and Cas gasped, whimpered faintly, and then squirmed again. “ _Ohhh_. _D-d-dean_ ….”

“I’ve got you, Angel. I’m right here.” Dean scissored the fingers gently, then removed them. Cas whimpered again.

“It’s all right, Cas. I’m right here. Can you feel me?” he asked as he pressed up against Cas again, just enough to slide the tip between the cheeks, but not yet inside.

“Yes…”

“May I, Angel?”

“ ** _P-p-please_** …”

Dean pushed forward gently with his hips, intending to go slowly; but Cas didn’t want to wait, and pushed back, squirming and wriggling to get closer, at the same time. It was Dean’s turn to moan as Cas took him in, deep. Then they were suddenly both rocking, slowly, back and forth, as if this _wasn’t_ their first time doing this. Cas turned his head back and Dean leaned forward to catch him in a kiss, reached down with his hand to stroke him. Cas shuddered.

“Dean… _so good_ … so… ohhh. This w-won’t t-t-take long….” Cas’ eyes were closed, his mouth open and slack, and Dean thought Cas’ face at that moment was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Dean stroked Cas a little faster, pumped in with his hips a tiny bit harder.

“Come with me, Angel?” he whispered into Cas’ neck, kissing his neck and shoulder again and again.

“ ** _Dean_** …” Cas gasped, as he erupted.

Dean felt the shockwave, and let it claim him as well, driving in one final time with a shout. He slumped against Cas’ back, trying to catch his breath, as he gradually softened and slipped out.

Cas was still trying to burrow impossibly closer.

“Angel, we’re _already_ touching,” Dean told him, amused and yet oddly affected by the sweetness and trust implicit in the silent plea for contact. He wrapped himself around Cas as tightly as possible, and Cas sighed happily, and stopped writhing. “Better?”

“ _Much_ ,” Cas breathed.

Dean smiled softly, and resumed kissing Cas’ neck and shoulder. They lay quietly like that a few moments. Then Cas turned in Dean’s arms, to face him, and tilted his face up to kiss him.

“I think that counted as about twenty new things at once.” Dean grinned.

“Mmm. I stopped counting after two. I think that’s when my brain melted.” Cas smirked. “You’re okay, though, right? You seem okay.”

“I’m more than okay, Cas. Last night, I was nervous, but not this morning. This morning, I… I just _wanted_ you, so damn much. And I knew I could trust in it, trust in us. Knew I could trust you to be supportive of how I felt, no matter what I was feeling. Thank you, Cas.”

“Always.”

***

Sam came in from his run and headed for the kitchen, and coffee. He found a fresh pot, and Gabriel, baking again.

“Didn’t you just bake _yesterday_ , Gabe?” he queried, as he doctored his coffee.

“Between me, Jack, and Dean, all but a few muffins are gone already,” Gabe explained. “Cas is gonna be gone today and tomorrow; Dean’s gonna be depressed. He’ll need the sugar, and I always want it.”

“Cas is _leaving_? Where’s he going?” Sam asked.

“Wyoming. He’s just getting his stuff and coming home, moving back in. Said he’d been keeping the cabin for ‘space’ in case he needed it, but he doesn’t need it, and Dean needs him.”

“Good, I’m glad he’s coming back.”

“Me too…. Hey, Sam?”

Sam paused on his way out of the kitchen, and turned back. “Yeah?”

“When we came back… you said that you had mourned me. You said that you still need me. I was just wondering….” Gabriel looked unsettled, unsure of himself, and that was so unlike the Archangel that it was concerning.

“Wondering… _what_ , Gabe?” Sam asked.

“If what you need me for is _just_ the translations work, or if there’s a chance there’s something more… something between _us_.” Gabe blushed, and looked determinedly at the floor, rather than at Sam.

Sam came back over to the kitchen table and sat down, and motioned for Gabriel to do the same. He thought for a moment.

“I _did_ mourn you. I had to watch Apocalypse World’s Michael _kill you with your own blade_. I had to watch you _die_ , knowing that you were only in that fight so that Dean and I could get back to this world safely.

“That was _after_ I had to watch you being catatonic from what Asmodeus did to you. I told you _then_ how important you were, to us, to _me_. I told you that you were needed, by the world, by us, **_by me_**.

“But you _still_ insisted on fighting Michael. You _sacrificed_ yourself for us, for _me_. It tore me apart, Gabe.

“The dream I have where Lucifer and Michael torture me is the worst dream, because it feels so real, and now I know that’s because it was really happening, they’re really in my head. But it’s not the only horrible dream I have, Gabe. The other? Is a replay of _the moment of your death_ , on a loop, over and over and over.

“I don’t know if I can go through that again, Gabe. And we’re fighting Chuck now. So much worse than Michael.

"So I guess I need to know, Gabe – if it comes down to it, will you be that _reckless_ again? That heedless of your own safety?”

Sam sipped his coffee and kept his eyes in his mug to avoid meeting Gabe’s eyes.

“You’re… _wait_. You’re _mad_ at me because I saved your lives?” Gabe bit out.

“No. I’m not mad. I’m grateful that you saved our lives, but I couldn’t stand to watch you _die_ like that again.”

“Well, then, I guess you’d better invest in blindfolds, Sammy. I’m your _guardian angel_ , dumbass; it’s my fucking _job_ to protect you. If that means that I die, then I die.

"And to me, it’s fucking _worth it_.”

Gabe got up and walked out of the kitchen.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress, progress, progress. On all fronts. PROGRESS, I say!!
> 
> Comments??????? :D


	85. Happy Journaling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes in his journal, and writes letters to Jo and Ellen Harvelle.

As soon as Cas was away, Dean got out his notebook and pen.

***

**_Saturday morning_ **

_Wow. What a difference a night makes!_

_Cas has flown to Wyoming to break his lease on the cabin, pack up his things, get his truck, and then come home. So, he’s not here right now, but that’s okay. I don’t have to be **physically** with him to be **with** him._

_We tried the “just one new thing” thing again last night. The new “new thing” was being naked together, instead of just shirtless, but otherwise, it was a repeat of Wednesday night’s “just snuggling and sleeping together.” And just like on Wednesday, it was **perfect**. I didn’t feel overwhelmed, or rushed, it just felt **right**. Cas took his pj bottoms off first, and let me get used to him; he said it was up to me, as much or as little as I wanted. So, it was **my** choice, to go further, or not. He didn’t push, he didn’t make suggestions. He let me explore his thigh with touch, didn’t shrink from it, didn’t rise to it, just lay there, passively, and let me touch him._

_I don’t know how he knew that was what I needed, but it was. And it calmed me, and made me want him to do the same. So I took off my pj pants, too, and rolled back to face him, and he **did** – he reached out with one finger to trace the same line on my leg. Then he rolled over, and scooted back, but he left room between us. And I knew what to do. I scooted **forward** , and closed the distance, wrapped my arm around him, and closed my eyes. And we whispered good night to each other – and **went to sleep**._

_And that was it, and it was exactly right. No tension, no stress, no worry._

_This morning, I woke up with morning wood. Not unusual, but this time, it was pressing into the cleft between the ass cheeks of an angel. And my angel is a snuggly sleeper, so he was squirming back against me in his sleep. I knew that he would support my choice, as far as my feelings went, to have sex, or not, either way. And that made it possible for me to **not** just pull back, roll away, get up, make an excuse. It made it possible for me to **want** it, to want **him**. So, I woke him to ask if it was okay, did he want me to? And he said he’d wanted me to for a long time, and if I was okay, so was he. And I realized that went both ways. **I was okay with it because he was**._

_So, I got out a condom and lube, and he reminded me that technically, we needed neither. So I agreed to ditch the condom – he’s clean and can’t get human diseases, not with his grace constantly healing him; if I ever had anything, he’s healed me of it by now, and I haven’t actually had sex in ages; and, as he said, neither of us can get pregnant – but I insisted on lube for prep. He said he didn’t need any – that I couldn’t hurt him because his grace would instantly heal him. But I said, “I don’t want you to have to **heal** from what I do, no matter how instantly. I want you **not to be hurt** in the first place, Angel. And maybe I just want to do **this** , did you ever think of that?” and by “ **this** ” I meant fingering him. It took about all of 2 seconds for Cas to get with **that** program, although he did use his grace to stretch himself faster than normal._

_It just felt like coming home to push slowly into him, but he wanted more and pushed back at the same time. It was like we’d done it a thousand times before, just slowly moving back and forth, gentle and slow, just so perfect. He was so beautiful, trusting, giving. I think it’s the healthiest sex I’ve ever had in my life. It wasn’t just sex. We made love. I’ve heard that distinction made before – yeah, I read cheesy romance novels, sue me – but I’d never believed in it. Now, I do._

_Even once we were both done, he still kept trying to burrow closer. And I think that’s my fault. I think Cas is touch-starved, affection-starved. It’s not like he’s had much in the way of physical affection in the past eleven years. I know of two encounters he had, and one of them, April, was a reaper who killed him, and the other, Meg, was a demon who manipulated his emotions while he was temporarily insane. So, I wrapped myself around him, and held him tight, and he stopped wriggling and made happy noises._

_I said I thought that maybe counted as about 20 new things, and Cas said he’d stopped counting at 2, **because his brain melted**. Have to say, I’m a little proud of that. “Hey, I’m so good, I made my angel lover’s brain melt!” Heh. Not that I need any more pick up lines, ever again; and not that that would really work as one. But still. **Go me!**_

_He’ll be back tomorrow night. I assume he’ll be tired from the long drive. So, I’m thinking the next ‘new thing’ could be that I just give him a back rub until he falls asleep, and then just snuggle and sleep again. Between his being touch-starved, and being tired from the road, a good back rub should make him feel better. And it’ll make me feel good to feel like I’m taking care of him. So often, Cas takes care of me. I want to return the favor._

_I love him. I want to show him how much._

_***_

_Dear Jo,_

_Oh, I miss you, Joanna Beth. You and your smart mouth! First time we ever met, I disarmed you, and you punched me and took your gun back. Spitfire. First case we worked, you agreed to be used as bait for the ghost of a serial killer. I got you out, but it was a close call. Second case we worked, you saved my life, after a demon possessing Sam tried to drown me. You cut a bullet right out of my shoulder. Then the demons burned The Roadhouse, and we found part of Ash’s remains, but couldn’t find you or Ellen. Scared me spitless. You and Ellen weren’t answering your phones, and we thought you had died, as well. Then we found you, Ellen, and Rufus, in that town where War was causing everyone to have hallucinations. Ellen and I figured it out, and convinced you and Rufus that we were right, and you got the townspeople to stop killing each other._

_The one time I ever tried anything on with you, you shot me down and laughed at me. Said if it was going to be our last night on earth, you wanted to spend it with self-respect. And the very next day, you saved me from a hellhound, and it killed you, instead. **Dammit, Jo.** I wish I had tried sooner. I wish I had tried more often. Then Osiris summoned your spirit as a witness against me; you refused to testify, but he tried to make you kill me. Sammy got the better of him and freed you, and you touched my face, and vanished._

_You had bad taste in music (REO Speedwagon, Jo? Really?), and in men (clearly!), but you could hold your liquor with the best of us. Remember the time Ellen challenged Cas to see who could drink the most shots? She was so sure she’d win, but he just slammed ‘em back like a champ. I’m with Cas, now, Jo. I think you’d be pleased._

_I have no issues to resolve with you, but I wish you were still around. You kept me on my toes, Jo. I love you._

_Always,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Ellen,_

_I miss you. You were prickly, but you gave good advice. I remember you once told me that Gordon Walker was a “good hunter in the same way that Hannibal Lector was a good psychiatrist.” Considering Sam had to take Gordon down, you were right._

_You sure loved your daughter. You were so mad when you found out Jo was with me and Sam in Philadelphia, hunting, instead of in Las Vegas, as she’d told you. Can’t blame you; I let her put herself in danger, act as bait, and only barely got her out. I wish you had focused more of your anger on me than on her; maybe then she wouldn’t have run off to hunt on her own. I know how much that hurt you. I did try to talk her out of hunting, El. But you know Jo. She wouldn’t listen to me._

_It’s my fault the two of you are dead. The hellhound that was coming after me got Jo instead, and you stayed behind with her to set off the bombs, sacrificing yourself to save me and Sam. Dammit, Ellen._

_A while back, you got word to me through a psychic that, unless I talked to someone about how bad things were for me, unless I could learn to trust someone again, you would kick my ass from beyond. Well, I took my sweet time about it, but I’m in therapy now, El._

_And I’m in love with Castiel. You remember him, the angel who drank you under the table at Bobby’s? We’re together now. And I **absolutely** trust him. I think you’d be pleased. Once you were done sniping at me for taking so long. The one constant reaction everyone seems to have to our relationship is “it’s about time!” I have no doubt that you’d be in line to be next to say the same._

_You were like a second mother to me, Ellen. In some ways, you were closer to me than my own mother ever was._

_I miss you. I love you._

_Always,_

_Dean_

***

Dean recapped his pen and put pen and notebook away. Remembering that Sam had wanted to speak with him this morning, he went to go find him. And coffee. And a muffin.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More progress!
> 
> Please comment. You know you wanna. ;)


	86. Gratitude v. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy meets Donna. Sam talks to Dean.

Amy and Alex sat on the couch, reading a book. Alex was helping Amy to remember how to sound out the words. Claire was doing a quick run to the grocery store. Jody and Donna were in the kitchen, having a second cup of coffee. They had worked out with Alex earlier how best to introduce Donna to Amy, and Alex would be laying the groundwork shortly.

“Okay, Amy, that’s really good. You’re getting a lot of the words right away. You’ll be reading like a champ in no time, and then we can move on to more advanced stuff,” Alex told her.

“What’s the point? As far as anyone outside this house knows, I’m _four_. I could be a genius, but I can’t drive, vote, get a job, enter into a contract, do my own grocery shopping. I can’t even register for _kindergarten_ for another _year_ ,” Amy sighed, then caught the look on Alex’s face. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m just frustrated. I know you all are just trying to help, and you’re great, really.”

“But we’re not your own family, and this situation sucks. I get it.

“Can I tell you how I landed here, with Jody as my foster mom?” Alex smiled.

“Okay.”

“When I was a little girl, my parents died, too. My grandmother took me in, but she was kind of frail, and couldn’t really protect me. When I was eight, I was kidnapped by a vampire, Celia; she wanted children. She’d bring home little boys all the time, but I was the only girl. She had a nest, in the basement of an old abandoned house, and we had a little family. But once the boys got to be teens, she’d turn them; she didn’t turn me. Sometimes, though, when times were tight and they hadn’t had a good feed, the family would feed on me, and that kept me weak. Eventually, when I was around 15, she had me start hanging out in bars, acting as a lure, someone to reel in drunk guys by making them think I’d let them have me. Then I’d bring them home, and the boys would kill them. I ran away, and got arrested by Jody’s deputy, Frank. Jody took me to her cabin to hide me, and Sam and Dean went to find the nest. But when they got there, it had been cleaned out; the vamps had come up here to find me. Celia tried to turn me, then; Jody killed her, and Sam and Dean killed the boys, and then cured me. Jody found out that my grandmother had died a few years before; I had no one, so Jody took me in. That was six years ago; I finished high school, and then college to become a nurse.”

“You were a vampire?” Amy asked, astonished. “I didn’t know there was a vampire cure.”

“It only works on newly-turned vamps that haven’t fed yet. I was lucky Sam and Dean were there,” Alex explained.

“Jody mentioned Sam and Dean. She said Dean could explain more about Julie and how she grew out of me. But I don’t really know who they are, or how Dean would know anything about that.”

“Well, as you obviously know, from your experience, a lot of creatures that people consider legends actually exist – vampires, werewolves, shtriga, vila, demons, angels, they’re all real. And certain people take care of the rest of us by hunting the creatures that are dangerous to humans; those people are called Hunters. Sam and Dean are Hunters – two of the best. They’ve literally saved the world at least twice that I know of, and they study the lore extensively. It’s what they do, and they’ve done it all their lives. Claire’s a Hunter, too, partially trained by Dean himself. Jody hunts sometimes, when it’s something local. Heck, I’ve even gone on a couple of hunts, took down two vetala by myself, once. And Donna – she’s here, you’ll meet her this morning, she’s great – she hunts things in her area in Minnesota, when she’s not busy being a sheriff.”

“Donna’s a sheriff, too?”

“Yep, that’s how she and Jody met, at a law enforcement conference…. Oh, speaking of, Amy, this is Donna Hanscum,” Alex said, as Donna and Jody came out of the kitchen.

“You tell her, Alex?” Jody asked.

“Yup.” Alex checked her watch. “I’ve got errands to run today, I won’t have time during the week. So. I’m heading out, but I’ll be back later for a continuation of the marathon, guys! Bye!”

She grabbed her purse, and dashed out the door.

“Donna, this is Amy Daniels,” Jody said. “Amy, do you need anything? Something to drink?”

“No, Jody, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna let you two get to know each other. I’ll be in the kitchen, washing dishes.” She left the room.

“So, Amy. Jody told me about your situation. I know you’re not _really_ a child, so I’m not gonna act like you can’t understand me. If I _do_ say something you don’t understand, feel free to ask; but otherwise, how about we just chat?” Donna sat on the other end of the couch, giving Amy some space.

“Okay. What would you like to chat about?” Amy asked.

“Anything you want. You want to rant? I’m a good listener, and I betcha you got a lot to rant about.”

Amy nodded. “Yeah, actually. I might have a thing or two to rant about.”

“Go for it.”

“I miss my sister, Alma. I know she’s been gone for thirty years, but to me, it feels like we were playing dolls together just last week. I miss my parents, too. I hate it when I look in the mirror and I see a four-year-old’s face staring back at me. I’m not that child any more. I don’t remember the crash. I guess that’s for the best. I was aware of my surroundings, in general, while in stasis, but on the other hand, I tuned a lot of it out. I let myself drift, or sleep, rather than trying to deal with the impossible. If I had paid more attention, this new reality might be worse.”

“How so?” Donna asked.

“Well, as it is, I’m going to have to go to school. Imagine if Emily had been teaching me, along with home-schooling Julie. If I’d actively been paying attention, I’d have had to go through it all _twice_. Ugh. It’s bad enough that I have to pretend to be a kid in public. What if I’d been put into a regular foster home, instead of with Jody, who understands the situation? Can you imagine regular foster parents trying to deal with me? Or me, trying to deal with _them_? Having to pretend constantly would be so exhausting.”

Donna nodded, sympathetically.

“I mean,” Amy continued, “this situation _sucks_. But I know it could be _so much worse_ than it is. I’m so grateful to Jody and Alex, and to Claire, though I don’t know her as well, yet. But it can be really hard, grating, to have to feel _grateful_ all the time, y’know? It makes me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. And the worst part is that I know that if I told Jody how I felt about that, she’d tell me that I _don’t_ have to feel grateful to her, that she’s happy to be able to help, and I know she means it. But if I didn’t feel the gratitude, what would that make me? _Selfish. Horrible_. It’s a wretched trap, and it’s not her fault, but it’s not _my_ fault either. So, I’m just basically miserable.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I getcha, I do. You’re right about one thing, though, I’ll tell ya. Jody would, indeed, tell you there’s no need for gratitude. She took in Alex, then she took in Claire. And she loves those girls like they were her own. And she already loves you, too. She’s not looking for gratitude, or thanks. She lost her own son, a long time ago, and it left a hole in her heart. You girls fill it.

"My advice? Let her love you, and don’t worry about being grateful. _Just love her back_.” Donna reached out and patted Amy’s hand comfortingly.

***

Dean found Sam in the library. Shann had arrived, and was trying to make sense of the stack of papers needing to be filed, which he had moved to the large table for sorting; he waved as Dean came in, but just kept working.

“How’s the new guy working out?” Dean asked Sam, in a lowered voice.

“Shann’s great, so far. He’s plowing through the filing, asks intelligent questions, doesn’t slack,” Sam told him.

“So, what’d you want to talk about, last night, when you so graciously steered Jack away?” Dean grinned.

“Oh, right. I was thinking, we really ought to get a new coffee maker. The one in the kitchen is old, and it works okay, but it doesn’t really keep up with the needs of six coffee drinkers. So I was looking online, and I found a professional-grade coffee maker that I like, but it has to be hooked into the plumbing, so I wanted to consult with you before ordering it.”

“Oh, it’s one where you don’t have to fill it, it’s just hooked to the tap and turns it on as needed to make coffee when you hit a button or something?”

“Yeah, exactly. Here, take a look at the website I found.” Sam clicked on the right tab on his browser, and turned the screen so Dean could see.

“Does it have the plumbing instructions on this site somewhere? If not, I hope they come with, because this isn’t something I can just spitball, Sammy,” Dean told him.

“Um, let me see….” Sam looked through the information, but didn’t see any instructions online for how to connect it up. “I guess not, though I suppose I could call and ask.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we couldn’t afford a plumber, but explaining the utility system hook-ups in the Bunker to a contractor who’d want to get a permit isn’t really territory I want to explore.”

Sam nodded. “No, I get it, Dean, you’re right.”

“But yeah, if you can figure out how to get the instructions, so I can figure out how to hook it up, it looks like it’s just what we need, Sam. Good work.”

“Also… I screwed up and pissed Gabe off,” Sam said, glumly.

“What? What happened, Sam?” Dean asked.

“When he and Jack first came back the other day, I… well, I kinda threatened him. Said I’d had to mourn him, didn’t want to have to do that again, told him he had to quit faking his death and really dying. I told him that I need him, said how important he is, to the world, to us, to me in particular. So then, last night, he asked whether I just needed him for his translations work, or if there might be a chance for something between the two of us.”

“ _Aww_ , what’d you say, Sammy?”

“I asked him if he was going to continue to be so reckless and self-sacrificing, because I didn’t think I could take watching him die _again_ , not after watching Michael kill him with his own blade, a fight he got into just to save the two of us, Dean. And he thought I was _mad_ at him for saving our lives, and I said no, I was _grateful_ for that, but mad at him for taking such _risks_. I said again, I couldn’t stand to watch him die again, for me. _He told me to invest in blindfolds_ , Dean. He said that he’s my guardian angel, and if he dies to protect me, so be it, that’s his _job_ , and he considers it worth it. And he got up and walked out of the kitchen, and I don’t know where he went. I couldn’t find him.”

“Let me ask you this, Sam. If there was no upcoming danger, if the two of you were just going to be comfortably ensconced here in the Bunker with your translations work and your lore research, and that was it… would you _want_ there to be something between you and Gabriel? If him being endangered because of you was taken out of the equation, how would you feel about being _with Gabe?_ ”

“I don’t know. I _can’t_ take him being endangered out of the equation, Dean. We’re up against _God_. No matter that Gabe’s his own son, Chuck’s not gonna hold back against him. Look what he did to _Jack_ , his own grandson. Gabe’s already endangered just by virtue of having been sent back from The Empty to help us. But I know Gabe can take care of _himself_. That’s not my problem. My problem is that Gabe thinks that he has to sacrifice himself to save _me_.”

“You think _Cas_ wouldn’t sacrifice himself to save you, or me, Sam? You think _I_ wouldn’t sacrifice myself for you? Hell, I _have_ sacrificed myself for you, Sam. Jack would, too. And _you’d_ sacrifice yourself for any of us, too. Sam, during the Trials, you were willing to sacrifice yourself for _strangers_! Putting yourself on the line for people you love is part of loving people, Sam. You’re not being fair to Gabe if you’re gonna let his willingness to die for you – which you’d reciprocate in a _heartbeat_ , Bitch – stand in the way of you guys being together, if that’s the only thing that’s stopping you.

“Now, if you’re not _attracted_ to Gabe, if you don’t _care_ about him, that’s one thing. But if you love him, or think you could – then Sam, _what the **fuck** are you waiting for?_ Don’t do what I did with Cas. Don’t let eleven years go by before you tell him how you feel. Don’t make me have to say, ‘ _it’s about time_ ,’ back to you, little brother.

“ _Get your shit together_ , figure out what you want and how you feel, and then tell Gabe. And if you _are_ going to let him down, let him down easy, Sam. Gabe’s family.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amy's situation is gonna suck for a while, no real getting around it.
> 
> Sammy's got some thinking to do. 
> 
> But Dean! So much progress! Mia's going to be proud, don't you think? ;)
> 
> COMMENT! I command thee! or, um, I ask thee, nicely, please? Hey, whatever works.... ;)


	87. Don't Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann does the filing. Cas has a chat.

Shann was doing his best to sort through the stack of paper.

Some of it was easy. Invoices for services rendered, bills that had been marked paid; things like that, he understood. Simple, sort by vendor or client name, and put in chronological order. That kind of stuff, he’d finished with in under half an hour after getting started for the day.

But the rest of it was just… _weird_.

  * Translations, paper-clipped to photocopies of the source material, of myths that pre-dated any history with which he was familiar; actually, photocopies of handwritten copies of the source material, because the _actual_ source material was apparently ancient papyrus that literally couldn’t be touched.
  * Documents labeled with titles like “Spell to Retrieve an Item,” or “Contract For One Soul” (the latter signed by “Crowley, King of Hell” and “Robert Singer,” dated January 2010, and stamped “Revoked” in red across the face of it).
  * A chart of the angelic hierarchy, showing all the choirs of angels – including about six he’d never heard of in any Sunday school class he’d ever taken during his Irish Catholic upbringing – and naming several specific angels within each choir, with some names crossed off and tagged as “deceased.”



And those examples were the _least_ esoteric of the bunch.

The weird stuff, he did his best to make a semi-educated guess. If it had a title, it went in alphabetical order. If it had no title, he gave it one on a post-it note, trying to be as descriptive as possible. But he was having a really hard time seeing what possible function most of it could _possibly_ serve, or why a client would want to pay to have anything like any of this _researched_.

Some of it was fascinating, sure. But what practical purpose could a contradictory creation myth, from a culture that no longer existed, possibly serve, today? His own degree was in anthropology, so researching ancient stuff was within his field, and yet even he could see no rhyme nor reason to most of this stuff. He shrugged it off, supposing that there were always weird collectors of arcane knowledge, and some people just had more money than sense.

He just did his best to do the job he’d been hired to do. So, it was weird stuff. So, the location was a weird underground building that couldn’t be seen. So what?

_God knows, I’ve had worse jobs._

At least the people in the weird invisible underground building seemed nice. He basically set his own schedule, and he had something to do that didn’t feel like made-up busy work. He was getting paid, and it was good money. He was not about to bitch.

***

Cas carried the last box from the cabin out to his truck. He hadn’t had much stuff here, and it hadn’t taken long to pack it up. He’d been to see his landlord, Charlie, and paid the forfeit to break the lease early. Now, he just wanted to go for one last walk out by the lake.

He took his time, and reached the “sitting rock” before noon. He was surprised to see Kathy was there, waiting.

“Hello, Kathy.”

“Hey, Cas. Charlie called, said you broke your lease and were packin’ up.” Kathy squinted up at him and shaded her eyes from the sun behind his head.

“Yes. I’m moving back home. Dean and I have worked through our issues.” Cas smiled and sat in his usual spot.

“Well, good for you, Cas. That’s excellent. You seem happy. I’m so glad it all worked out.” Kathy smiled back.

“You’re a good friend, Kathy,” Cas told her.

“You tell a good story, Castiel.” She leaned back on the rock and watched the water.

“You still don’t believe it, though, do you?” he asked.

“Well, it is a bit fantastical, Cas. But I can’t see it in you to lie, nor can I see a reason why you’d want to.” Kathy shrugged. “Does it matter to you, whether I believe it or not? Even if I don’t believe it, if it’s true, it remains so, doesn’t it?”

Cas nodded. “That’s true. Something that is true remains true whether or not we believe in it. And something that’s false remains false, no matter how much we want to believe.”

“So, then, I needn’t believe it, necessarily, to take something valuable away from having heard it. Doesn’t that follow?”

Cas nodded again.

“So, what would you say is the key thing that I should take away from your story, Cas?” Kathy asked.

Cas considered. “That if you love someone, you should tell them. Brave rejection, don’t waste time on fear. Because you never know how long you have. And love is more important than anything else. If it might be available, you want to be in it, not waiting around, hoping for it.”

Cas suddenly noticed an absence of sound, and realized that the scene had frozen. But he hadn’t; he turned, and on the trail, there was Amara.

“Hello, Castiel. Well-spoken, nephew.”

“Amara. How are you?”

“I’m well. Better than my brother.” Amara smiled softly. “And you, Castiel? How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.”

“And how is Dean?”

“Dean is well, also.”

Amara’s smile grew wider. “That is good to hear. And based on what you were just saying, may I assume that the two of you have gotten past your own roadblocks, and are finally together?”

“We are.”

“That’s _wonderful_.”

“Really?”

Amara nodded. “Really. I’ve been privy to Dean’s thoughts, Castiel. I knew what he felt for you. And it is, truly, important to me that both of you are happy. I’ve done things I regret. I wish to put them behind me. Will you forgive me for hurting you, nephew?”

“Yes. I forgive you, Amara.”

“Thank you. You have questions for me. I sensed them. I came in response. Don’t worry; I’ve blocked this area off from Chuck, so it’s a safe space for this conversation. So, Castiel, ask.”

“Lucifer. He claims he was given a choice when he died. Was he, and if so, who gave it to him?”

“He was. I did. I had the power to hold him back from The Empty, to keep him in reserve, should he be needed. The power of an archangel, no matter how corrupted, is to be respected, not wasted.”

“Did you remove The Mark from him?”

“I did. From Cain, as well. Rowena’s spell took it from Dean and released me. The Mark is gone, even from me, now. It was created by my brother as a key to my cell. I have destroyed it. I will not be locked away again.”

“If the Mark is gone, is the corruption gone as well? Is Lucifer trustworthy?”

“He is. I… I believe the term is ‘reset him to factory settings.’ I also changed the nature of The Cage; it is no longer a torture device, but simply a holding cell. Lucifer never deserved the punishment that Chuck imposed upon him, any more than I did.”

“Did you know that Lucifer didn’t go to The Cage in Hell?”

Amara looked startled. “No. He didn’t… go to The Empty, did he?”

“No. He told me he’d been given a choice – go to The Empty, or go to The Cage – but that no one had specified it had to be The Cage _in Hell_. There are _three others_. He chose one he knew to have a broken lock.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The Cage is a mental construct, as well as a physical location. When one is a prisoner in it, one is essentially locked in a part of one’s own mind, through a dimensional twist. Three beings have been in The Cage – Lucifer, Michael, and Sam Winchester. I rescued Sam’s body from The Cage; Death later rescued his soul. I damaged the lock; Death destroyed it – but we only impacted the lock on the The Cage in Sam’s own mind, that being enough to free him. So, when you gave Lucifer his choice, he chose to go to The Cage in Sam’s mind, and as it has no lock, he’s been free to wander about in Sam’s memory palace, subconscious, and dreams. He’s been communicating with Sam, and with me. That’s how I knew there were questions to be asked.”

“I see. I gave Michael the same choice.”

“Yes, Lucifer told Sam. Michael has unfortunately lost his sanity; Lucifer pulled him along into Sam’s head.”

“So, the non-threatening holding cell I created in Hell….”

“Is _empty_ , yes.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, guys, Shann's not a villain. He's just a guy, doing the filing. :)
> 
> I think Cas' takeaway is a pretty good one. ;)
> 
> So, Amara's giving Archangels a choice of staying available in the event they're needed. Needed for what, I wonder? Hmm.... ;)
> 
> Please comment? I love you guys. (See, I got that from Cas' story....) :D


	88. Moving On and Getting Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe gets called out. Dean writes more letters.

“Shann, you haven’t seen Gabe, have you? I’ve been looking for him everywhere,” Sam asked.

Shann looked up from the paper he was working with. “Gabe? No, haven’t seen him since pizza in the War Room the other night. I did find this on the table in here this morning, though.”

He handed Sam a folder, with a long note written on post-its on the front.

Sam read the note: 

***

_Sam –_

_Here’s the translation you needed from me for today. Since I don’t want to take the **risk** of you **having to watch me at my work**, I’ve arranged to be… elsewhere._

_Let me know about anything **you need** done, whether it’s a translation, or any other work-related request, by leaving a note in my ‘IN’ basket on the bookcase nearest the door to the War Room; when I’m done, my work will be in the ‘OUT’ basket._

_– Gabe_

***

He turned to look, and sure enough, on the bookcase in question there were now two wire baskets, one labeled “IN” and the other labeled “OUT.”

Sam huffed out a breath. “Shann, have you got a sheet of paper and a pen?”

Shann handed over the requested items. Sam sat down at the table to write a work-related request to Gabriel.

***

_Gabe –_

_Right now, **I need you** to **knock it the fuck off** , be a mature adult, and **come talk with me**. I’ll be in the kitchen._

_– Sam_

***

Shann read it over Sam’s shoulder. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

Sam sighed. “I already pissed him off. I’m looking for him so I can apologize. I’ll just apologize for this, too.”

Sam got up, put the note in the “IN” basket, and headed for the kitchen. He needed a damned cup of coffee.

As soon as Sam left the room, the note rose up out of the “IN” basket and seemingly hung in midair.

Shann looked up, and saw it. “Hey, you don’t have to hide from me. I just do the filing.”

Gabe materialized. “You seem very… _not shocked_.”

“Dude, the _whole building’s_ invisible from the parking lot. Why wouldn’t some of its occupants be, now and then?” Shann shrugged.

Gabe came over and sat down. “Why _doesn’t_ the weirdness bother you?” he asked.

Shann sat down and considered the question. “I’m not really sure. Maybe because I can’t sense anything… _off_ about any of you. I’m usually pretty good at reading people, and Sam, Castiel, Dean, Jack, you – you’re all so… _nice_. Sincere. It feels right, and true. The stuff I’m working with is a bit odd, but the work _itself_ isn’t; it’s just filing. There’s an order to it, a beginning, a middle, and an end. The money’s good. The hours are good. The coffee’s good.” He shrugged, and continued.

“I’ve certainly had _worse_ jobs. I once had a boss who would get angry, bare his teeth, and growl like a feral dog at staff members. I’ve had jobs where the office politics were cutthroat, where you couldn’t trust anyone to have your back. I’ve had jobs where the head of the company got sued for sexual assault and harassment in the workplace. I’ve had jobs where the boss actively set people up to fail. I’ve had jobs where the partners sued each other, and all the employees had to give depositions to keep their jobs.

“All in all? I think I prefer a little _oddness_ , with _nice people_ , to supposedly _normal_ , with vicious, vile co-workers; y’know?”

Gabe tilted his head and weighed what Shann had said, then nodded. “Okay. I guess I can see that.”

“Now, go and talk to Sam. He really does seem a nice person, and so do you. Why would you want to fight with someone like that?”

Gabe held up the note.

Shann chuckled. “He did say he’d be apologizing for it, did he not?”

Gabriel huffed out a breath. “Yeah. Sam’s a good guy. One of the best, actually. Makes staying mad at him really hard, so I probably wouldn’t have held out for much longer anyway. Guess I’d better go get it over with. Besides, I want a cookie.”

***

Dean had promised Gabe and Jack that he’d watch movies with them at some point this afternoon, but he had more letters he wanted to write, too.

He’d looked for Gabe, but hadn’t found him, so he decided to write the letters, and then try again afterward. He got his notebook and pen out, and uncapped his pen.

He had two specific letters in mind, and they weren't going to be easy to write.

***

_Dear Charlie,_

_I miss you **so much** , Your Majesty. I know you won’t like this, but I’m afraid that I didn’t feel right, LARPing without you, so I haven’t been to Moondoor since you died._

_Fuck, this is **hard**. Seeing you dead in that bathtub really shook me; it sent me down a very dark path. I blamed Sam, unfairly, for your death for a long time, but I got the Stynes for you, sis. All of them. I’m in a better place, mentally, now; the Mark is gone._

_I’m finally with Cas, and happy, and I know you’d approve. I know how much you liked him, especially after he healed your hands of carpal tunnel._

_I told you once that you were “the little sister I never wanted.” It was really more like “the little sister I never **knew** that I wanted.” I wouldn’t have wanted you to be out on the road with us; our life was harder than it should have been, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to go through what we did. But if you **had** been our sister, we would have known you longer, had you around more, and **that** , I do wish for._

_You told me once that you loved me, and I totally Han Solo’d you. **I should’ve said it back**. And not just the one time._

_I love you, Charlie._

_Always,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Cassie,_

_I loved you. I trusted you. I thought you were the one. I told you the truth about myself and my work, which broke about a hundred rules. And for my honesty, you broke up with me, and wouldn’t talk to me again – until your father died, and you needed me to figure out what happened._

_I came when you called. I brought Sam with me, and introduced you to him. I told you again that I loved you. We made love. Sam and I figured out the ghost situation, and fixed it. I wanted you to come with us. I wanted to stay with you. I wanted to come back to you. You told me to go, and that you didn’t see us together. I told you that I would come back, again._

_I believed it, then. Turns out, it was a lie. That’s the only lie I ever told you._

_I didn’t come back to you. For one thing, you didn’t seem to want me to. For another, I’ve been kind of busy saving the world a couple of times. Then there was Lisa, although if I’d thought there was a chance with you, I probably would have gone to you instead of to her when Sam fell into The Cage._

_I **don’t** want to come back to you, now. It’s been too long; you were too dismissive, which fed into my insecurities; you never believed in me; and you never trusted me. In short, **you weren’t good for me** , though I couldn’t see it at the time, and now I’m with Cas, who **is** good for me, and the compare and contrast is unbelievable._

_With you, I think I mistook really good sex and lust for love. **Real love isn’t possible without trust**._

_**Cas trusts me** , and **I trust him**. Cas **believes** me when I tell him things. Cas believes **in** me. Cas **loves** me. _

_**I’m in love with Cas, and Cas is in love with me**._

_You never were._

_I loved you, Cassie._

_**I’m over it**._

_Goodbye,_

_Dean_

***

_That hurt, but it was true. If she'd really loved me, there was a time when I'd have moved heaven and earth to be with Cassie. But in my heart, I always knew the truth._

Dean capped the pen and put it and the notebook away.

It was time to watch some movies with his family.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Shann's not a villain. I'm going to keep saying that until y'all believe me. ;)
> 
> PROGRESS, oh, such progress, Dean! :D
> 
> Please, comment. :)


	89. When You Least Expect It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam apologizes to Gabe. Cas leaves Wyoming and Kathy gets a visitor. Cas calls Claire.

“So, are you going to come and sit down, or just _stand there_ staring at the back of my head?” Sam asked. He was sitting at the kitchen table, his back to the door. He’d known Gabe was standing behind him for the past two minutes. He didn’t bother to turn around to confirm it.

Gabe sighed, and came over to sit at the table, across from Sam.

“Thank you.” Sam said. “I have something I need to say to you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d just let me _get through it_ , because it isn’t going to be easy for me. I may be better about expressing feelings than Dean, but I’m still a Winchester, and this isn’t something we do very often.

“First, I owe you some apologies. I apologize for the wording of my note. And I apologize for having angered you last night. I’m sorry that I upset you. I don’t want to make you angry, Gabriel. I appreciate what you’ve done for me and Dean, and I didn’t mean to come off like I was angry that our lives had been saved by you. I kinda like the idea of you being my guardian angel, and I like it when you’re all protective and powerful; to be honest, it’s kinda _hot_.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows went up, and he leaned forward; it looked like he was going to say something, but Sam raised a hand to ask for his continued silence, and he settled back in his chair again.

“But what I was trying to say, apparently badly, is that you have a tendency to take _unnecessary risks._ Pardon the pun, Gabe, but you rush in where angels _should_ fear to tread, but apparently _don’t_. You have a lot of powers, and you’ve gotten very good at hiding, tricking people, faking your own death, etc., but you are _not_ invincible.

“We had _just_ gotten you safe from that bastard, Asmodeus, just gotten you back – after years of believing you were dead, I got you _back_ – and I _told_ you how I felt, and I thought you understood how much I needed you around. After years of watching Cas and Dean dance around their feelings for each other, surely you know how hard it was for me, a Winchester, to tell you that I needed you? But I did it _anyway_ , because you needed to hear it. So, you _knew_ how I felt.

“But then you chose to fight with Michael _anyway_. You knew it was a bad idea – you said so yourself. You were only fighting him to distract him so that Dean and I could get away. Gabe, _there had to be another way_ , there is _always_ another way; but you made the riskiest choice, and yes, it worked, and yes, I’m grateful – but _Jesus_ , Gabe, _I had to watch you die_ , again, knowing this time it was _real_. We couldn’t even bring your body back, Gabe. It was traumatic, and more so because _it wasn’t necessary_.

“And now, we’re fighting _God_. And I have no idea what to do, how to stop him, how to beat him. And I’m terrified. I am more afraid than I have ever been before, because before, I always kinda believed that he was on our side – and turns out, he _was_ , but now he isn’t.

“And then you came back from the dead, literally. And now, on top of being terrified of having to fight God, I have to be even more afraid, because you’ll be in the fight as well.

“I’m not asking you not to fight, Gabe. I _know_ we need you to be in the fight. I’m just asking you to be more careful, and not take the _unnecessary_ risk again. _Let us find the other way_ , Gabriel. That’s it. That’s all I ask. Just let us all – including you – find the way that doesn’t involve you sacrificing yourself heedlessly. Okay?”

Sam had kept his eyes down until the end, but when he brought his eyes up to meet Gabe’s, they were full-on puppy dog with tears swimming.

“Because I _love_ you, Gabriel. I have for a very long time. I may have to watch you die; I may die in this fight myself. But if I have to watch you die again _when it didn’t **have** to happen_, I….” The tears fell. Sam couldn’t continue. He dropped his eyes again and shook his head, wearily. After a moment, he whispered, “ _I can’t do it again, Gabe. Don’t ask me to_.”

Sam rose from his chair, turned and walked blindly out of the kitchen, pushing past Dean to head off toward his own room.

Dean walked into the kitchen, wondering what the hell was wrong with his brother.

“Did you do that, Gabe? Do I have to break your head now?” he asked.

Gabe slowly looked up at Dean, a stunned, glassy expression on his face. He said, hoarsely, “Um, yeah, I think you might. And I might just have to let you.”

Dean examined Gabe’s face, and saw that he was at least as upset as Sam.

“Aw, fuck it. It’d be like kicking a puppy.” Dean sighed. “Okay. C’mon, Gabe, go find Jack. We need to watch movies. Go get your nephew while I make the popcorn.”

***

Amara told Castiel one final thing, before unfreezing the area and vanishing.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty good take-away, Castiel,” Kathy said. “Cas? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Kathy, thank you.”

Kathy rose from the rock and dusted her uniform lightly. “Well, you’d better get on the road. C’mon, I’ll walk you back to the truck. How far are you planning to go, today, before stopping for the night?”

“Ah, I thought Laramie would be a good stopping point. It’s about six hours, almost half way.”

Kathy nodded. “Drive safe. Let me know when you get there, and when you get home, please?”

“Of course.” Cas smiled.

“Well, if you’re ever back up this way, Cas, it’d be good to see you.”

Cas grinned. “I was thinking that the cabin, in summer, would be good for a vacation. Maybe I can get Dean to take a break and come with me.”

“It’d be nice to get to meet him,” Kathy said.

Kathy saw Cas off, and headed back to her own cabin. She wanted a shower, dinner, and her bed, in that order.

“Hello, Kathy.” A nebbushy little man, skinny, in jeans and a t-shirt with a green Army surplus jacket, was standing outside her cabin.

“Um. Can I help you? The ranger station is actually up that trail, there, about a quarter mile.”

“Oh, thanks, but I’m actually not lost. **_I’m God_**. But you can call me Chuck.”

***

Amy and Donna were sacked out on the couch. Jody and Alex were asleep on the floor. Claire surveyed the wreckage of the movie marathon, and thought it was good. She let the others sleep, calling in the order for Chinese food to be delivered. She picked up the cups and plates and bowls and stale popcorn leftovers and carted it all out to the kitchen.

As she was running the water to get it hot enough to wash dishes, her cell phone rang. She pulled it out, and saw that the Caller ID said it was Cas.

“Hey, Cas!” she answered. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Claire. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good. Just doing some dishes. Donna came up for the weekend and we had a movie marathon, and we’re all wanting a nap. But it was fun. What are you up to?”

“I’m driving my truck.”

“Where are you?”

“Wyoming, on the way back to Kansas.”

“Are you _moving back_ , Cas?”

“Yes, I am, Claire.”

“ _Good_.”

“I think Dean and I, and maybe Sam, might be headed up that way soon. Dean wants to reopen the Salvage Yard. And we have a surprise for you.”

“Okay. Next weekend?”

“I’m not quite sure when Dean has in mind, but I’ll let you know.”

“You can’t tell me _anything_?”

“Nope. You’ll have to wait. But I think it’ll make you happy.”

“Okay, well, call me when you know when you’ll be here, and I won’t go out of town in the short-term, just in case.”

“Okay. Say hi to Donna and Jody and Alex for me.”

“Will do, Cas. Drive safe.”

“I will, Claire. Bye.”

“Bye, Cas.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who, me? I'm not evil. Nope. ;)
> 
> Comments? :D


	90. More Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck and Kathy chat. Dean, Jack, and Gabe watch a movie; Sam joins them. Jody, Claire, Alex, Donna, and Amy also watch a movie. Cas calls Dean from the road.

Kathy blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just say….”

“I’m _God_ , yes.” Chuck nodded. “But you can just call me Chuck. Look, I’m… I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything. I just wanna talk. Do you mind? Could we go inside? It’s a little cold out here.”

“Um… okay. Sure.” Kathy got her key out and opened the door, then stood aside to let Chuck enter. She flicked on the lights.

“Oh, hey, nice place,” Chuck commented.

“Thanks. Um… have a seat. Would you like coffee? I could put a pot on….” Kathy shook her head, as if to clear it.

“Oh, no, don’t go to any trouble. I mean, if _you_ want coffee, go ahead, and then, yeah, I wouldn’t say no, but I don’t need any, thanks.”

“Chuck, can I just ask? What do you _want_?” Kathy asked.

“Oh, um. Yeah. Well, see, here’s the thing. I kinda picked a fight, and I probably shouldn’t have, and I’ve been putting on a good front and acting all tough, but I’m really not a fighter, y’know? And it doesn’t really seem like anyone is taking my side. So I’m, um, regretting starting the whole thing. And I’d like to put a stop to it. But I don’t think they’ll listen to me.”

“Who won’t?”

“My kids, Gabe, and Cas. My grandson, Jack. Sam and Dean. Especially not Dean. He gets an idea in his head, and just runs with it, hoo boy….”

“Wait… you’re Cas’ _father_?” Kathy felt like she was perhaps missing some vital link, some piece of information, that would enable her to solve this puzzle.

“Well, yeah. I’m _God_ , Kathy. Technically, I’m kinda sorta _everyone’s_ father, ultimately.”

“I think I need to sit down.” Kathy sat on the couch, holding the edge of the cushion like a life preserver.

“Yeah. Hey, do you want a glass of water? Let me get you some water, here, hold on.” Chuck went in the kitchen, got out a glass, turned on the tap, filled it, turned the tap back off. “Here, Kathy. Have a drink. Having something to hold in your hand will ground you, and water is good if you’re starting to go into shock. You’re not, are you? I don’t think you are, but I’m no doctor, what do I know? I mean, I took a first aid class once, but that was a long time ago, and...well, yeah.”

“I’m okay.” Kathy sipped the water. “So, if I’m understanding correctly… you’re God, you picked a fight with someone, or several someones, but you’re regretting it, because you’re really not a fighter, and now no one’s taking your side. But you don’t know how to put an end to it, and you don’t think that Gabe, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Dean will listen to you if you try to tell them you want to end it. Am I following along?”

“Yeah, you got it. So, I think _you_ should talk to them for me. I saw you talking with Cas, he seems to like you. I think you could get him to listen… to you, probably not to me, but at least to you.”

***

Dean, Jack, and Gabe settled in to watch _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ (they’d gone back and forth between starting with _Grail_ , or _Life of Brian_ , but Jack piped up and said he’d never seen _Grail_ before, so that decided that). Within a few moments, however, the DVD had been paused, so Dean could do his Crowley impression.

“I look in the mirror, and I see a beautiful man! All right!” Dean grinned as Gabe snorted with laughter. Jack was amused as well, but hadn’t known Crowley as well.

Dean hit play on the DVD again. Gabe got himself under control, and squeezed Dean’s hand.

“Thanks, man. I was supposed to make sure _you_ were laughing, and now, here you are, making _me_ laugh, instead,” Gabe whispered to him.

“Cas made you promise to get me laughing? Heh.” Dean smirked.

By the time the scene with the peasants in the anarcho-syndicalist commune came on (“Dennis, there’s some lovely filth down here,”… “Help, help, I’m being oppressed!”), Sam had gotten himself back together, and wandered in. He pulled up a chair at the end of the couch, next to Gabe. Neither of them said anything, but Gabe held out his hand, and Sam took it, like a lifeline.

Dean saw it, and smiled quietly.

***

“So, what should we watch next, ladies? _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ , or _Beaches_?” Jody held up the two DVDs.

“ _Grail_!” was the unanimous response from Claire, Donna, and Alex.

“I’ve never seen either one, so whatever you want is fine,” Amy said.

“ _Grail_ it is.” Jody popped it in. “Just so you know, Amy, this movie is a little weird, it’s satire, and it may not make much sense, but it’s just meant to be funny, so, when in doubt, just laugh.”

“Good to know,” Amy said.

“A moose once bit my seester!” Claire exclaimed, reading along with the opening “credits”.

“Mind you, moose bites can be pretty nasty!” Alex joined in. The two of them collapsed in giggles.

***

“Oh, let’s not go to Camelot. It is a silly place,” Dean said, along with King Arthur.

“Dean, do you know all the lines to this movie?” Jack asked.

“Pretty much, kiddo. _Grail’s_ a classic.”

***

“Jody?”

“Yes, Amy?”

“You were right. This movie is _weird_.”

“Oh, just wait. It gets weirder.”

***

“I said we already got one!” Sam quoted.

“I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!” Dean and Gabe said together, along with the French knight.

“You guys, this movie is _weird_ ,” Jack said.

“Oh, just wait, it gets weirder,” Dean told him.

***

“Where’d you get the coconuts?” Claire asked, along with the guard.

“We found them.” Alex quoted, along with King Arthur.

“Found them? In Mercia? The coconut’s tropical!” Jody chimed in.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked.

“Well, this is a temperate zone!” Donna and Jody said, together.

They all giggled again. Amy didn’t really get the joke, but she thought _they_ were so funny, she laughed along anyway.

***

Dean had put his cell phone on vibrate in case it rang during the movie, and it went off in his pocket. He pulled it out, and saw it was Cas, so he went out in the hall to take the call.

“Hey, Cas. Where are you now?” he asked.

“Hello, Dean. I am almost halfway to Laramie, Wyoming, where I plan to stop for the night. I had a visit from Amara before I got on the road.”

“Really? What did she have to say?” Dean asked.

“She seems to be on our side. She shielded the conversation, and I don’t want to say everything over an unwarded cell phone connection, but I’ll tell you when I get back. But I _can_ tell you that she said that she was pleased that you and I are together, and happy. She said she’d done things she regretted, and asked for my forgiveness for having hurt me.”

“Wow. That’s quite the conversation, right there. So, you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Just missed your voice a little.” Cas smiled.

“Missed you, too, Angel. We’re watching movies, Gabe needed a laugh, too. I think he and Sam are a thing, now.” Dean glanced back into the movie room, and saw that Gabe and Sam were still holding hands, their fingers linked. He grinned. “They’ve been holding hands for about an hour now.”

“Gabe and Sam? Well, that’s an interesting development. What are you watching?” Cas asked.

“ _Grail_. I did my Crowley impression.”

Cas laughed. Dean smirked.

“I’d better let you go, Angel. You drive safely, and call when you get to Laramie, okay?”

“I will, Dean. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Cas.”

Dean smiled softly and put his phone back in his pocket, then headed back in to watch the rest of the movie.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Chuck's chicken. ;)
> 
> If you haven't seen Jensen's "Monty Python-esque" impression of Mark Sheppard, you need to. Copy this into your browser, and watch the video:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ylp8ab1jqOE  
> You can skip to about 7:02 if you only want to see the parts with the impressions (Jared does one, too), but the whole video is hilarious. ;)
> 
> Grail's one of my favorite movies, so I couldn't resist the quotes. :)
> 
> Comments??


	91. Open to Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann meets the real Gabe. Kathy disinfects and dresses Chuck's wound and they discuss opening negotiations.

Sam went to the library to replace a book he’d had in his room, and was surprised to find Shann still working.

“Hey, man, it’s after 5:00, I thought you’d be gone. Everything okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. I finished the filing about an hour ago, and I started reading this chart on the hierarchy of the angelic choirs. It’s really interesting. Do you know who created it? There’s a few choirs on here that weren’t mentioned in catechism,” Shann explained.

“Well, it’d probably be Gabe. He’s our expert,” Sam said.

“Yeah? Where’s his degree from? I assume he was in seminary, right?” Shann queried.

“Gabe? Seminary?” Sam chuckled. “No.”

“I hold a Ph.D. in divinity from the School of Mission and Theology in Stavanger, Norway, which in 2006 formed a part of the VID Universities. It’s the oldest private institution of higher learning in the country. Before that, I got a Master’s in Theology from the University of Gothenburg, in Sweden. And, in fact, Sam, I did attend seminary, at Asker Seminary, also in Norway,” Gabe told him, having come in to the library in time to hear Shann’s question.

“But Asker Seminary was discontinued in 1898,” Shann said.

“Yes, it was.” Gabe smiled. “Which is why I also obtained a bachelor’s degree in religious studies from the University of Oslo.”

“But that would make you over 120 years old.” Shann was starting to look a little nervous. Sam just looked a little amused.

“You want to tell him, Sam, or should I?” Gabe grinned.

“Oh, Gabe, why don’t you just _toot your own **horn**?_” Sam laughed.

“You really wanna have to _save the world **again**_ , Sam?” Gabe asked, chuckling.

Sam snorted.

“What am I missing?” Shann asked.

“Shann, allow me to introduce you to the Archangel Gabriel,” Sam said, shaking his head, still laughing.

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really. Gabe, show him. He’s not gonna believe me.”

Gabe laughed. “Yeah, I guess there’s room enough in here.”

Gabriel made the lights brighter, and spread his wings, so their shadows appeared behind him.

“ _Whoa_.” Shann sat down heavily.

***

“So, if you’re _God_ , why can’t you just call off this fight you started? Why can’t you just go back to the way things were before you started it, and just… _not_ start it?” Kathy asked.

“What, you mean, like go back in time? Yeah, no, I… I…don’t really have the power right now. I’m _wounded_.” Chuck peeled back the jacket and shirt, and showed her the wound on his shoulder.

“Um. What gun has the power to wound God?”

“A gun that I created, okay? It wasn’t supposed to be used on me. Dean was supposed to use it to kill Jack.” Chuck was still pouting a little about that.

“You wanted someone to kill _your own grandson?_ ” Kathy knew that Cas had told her about it, but she was still just as outraged.

“It seemed like a good idea _at the time_ , okay? Jack has too much power, and not enough judgment to know how to use it, and… well, to be honest, it scared me. Jack’s _Lucifer’s_ son, I didn’t know him then, not really, and, so, yeah. Bad idea.”

“Well, let’s get that cleaned out, it looks infected.” Kathy went to the bathroom and returned with a first-aid kit.

“It does? I didn’t think so, but I guess I didn’t want to look all that closely at it, really. Blood kinda squicks me, to be honest.”

Kathy rolled her eyes. “Take your jacket and shirt off, and let me get a good look at this. Did the bullet go through, or is it still in you?”

“It wasn’t a bullet, in the traditional sense. The gun is special. It uses a small part of the soul of the person who uses it. And whoever uses it gets a wound in the same place, and to the same degree, as the entity they fired on.”

“Who shot you?” Kathy asked. “Dean? You said he was supposed to shoot Jack.”

“No, it wasn’t Dean. It was Sam.”

“So Sam also has a wound in _his_ shoulder?” Kathy looked closer at the wound, a small black hole in Chuck’s left shoulder. She pressed gently at the edges, and a small amount of pus leaked from the center. “Yeah, this is infected.”

“Is it? Wow. Um. Okay. Um.”

“I can rinse it, put some rubbing alcohol on it, but you might need antibiotics for that.”

Kathy went to the kitchen, got out a small towel, ran the water until it was hot, got the towel damp at one end, turned the water off, and returned to Chuck. “Okay, I’m gonna rinse and wipe, it might sting a little, but it shouldn’t hurt too much. Okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. Now, just hold still.” She dabbed the towel in the wound, squeezing some water into it, then using the dry end of the towel to wipe it clean.

“You’ve got a good touch, thanks. I’m usually a little nervous in medical situations, but you’re really helping.”

“So, can I ask why you decided to pick a fight in the first place?” Kathy asked, as she continued to cleanse the wound.

“Well, it was mostly because I was afraid of Jack, to be honest. He made it so _no one could lie_. No one on the planet. That caused a great disturbance, which I had to fix. But he shouldn’t have been able to do that. That was after he’d killed a woman – Sam and Dean’s mother – with just a _thought_. Kid had _way_ more power than he should. He was a Nephilim, and my policy on those has _always_ been to kill them, and that was when they were the product of a human and a regular angel, but he was _Lucifer’s_ son – child of an _Archangel_ – and with a soul and grace, well, it’s just too _much_. He looked like he was in his late teens, early twenties, but he was really only just barely two years old. He had some education, since Sam home-schooled him pretty thoroughly, but he had no real-world experience, no judgment. All that power, and no control, _no idea_ of how to use it _safely_ , see? That’s why I told Dean to shoot him. I still don’t get why Dean wouldn’t do it, seeing as Jack killed Mary. I would’ve thought Dean would’ve leapt at the chance.” Chuck shook his head.

“And the other factor was that Sam and Dean are just so darn stubborn, and they didn’t want to accept the truth.”

“What truth was that?” Kathy asked. “Okay, hold on, I’m gonna pour a little hydrogen peroxide in here, this is going to sting, so, here,” she handed him the towel, the clean end, doubled over, “bite down on that.”

He did, and she poured, and he cried out behind the towel. “It will only last a few seconds… there, see? And now a little rubbing alcohol, this will sting a bit, too, so just keep biting down… yeah, I know, it hurts, but it’ll clean out the nasty germs, okay, give it a second, and that will stop too.”

A few seconds later, Chuck nodded, and dropped the towel. “ _Ow_.”

“Okay, last thing, I’ve got a little Neosporin, and I’m going to put that on it, and then bandage it. And then you can have some Tylenol. And then you’ll be done.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Sure. So, what _truth_ did Sam and Dean not want to accept?”

“Oh, that. Well. I created everything. And what they didn’t like was the reason I did it. That’s all.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, what was the reason?”

“To have something to entertain me. I was _bored_. And occasionally, there’d be a few entities that I created that entertained me more than others, and I’d watch them, create situations to kinda test them, see how they did. And Sam and Dean, no matter _what_ I threw at them, they’d knock it out of the park, but _never_ in the way that I had anticipated. They always found some _other_ way to go, some different thing to do, that wasn’t at all what I had thought they’d do, and it delighted me. So, I just kept throwing more and more situations at them, and they just kept getting out of them, but in their own way. And I mentioned to them that they were the most entertaining of all of my creations, and _man_ , they totally took _that_ the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment, but they took it as….”

“As you were being _selfish_ , making them handle way more than they should have had to, just for the fun of it, when it wasn’t really fun for _them_ , just for you, like you were watching it on television?”

“Um…yeah.”

“Put yourself in _their_ shoes, Chuck. How would _you_ have taken it?” Kathy finished bandaging the wound, and stepped back.

“Well, yeah, that’s what I realized. That I’d been unfair. That I should have stepped in and _guided_ Jack, rather than trying to get rid of him. That I should have _apologized_ to them for putting them through so much. But by the time I’d realized it, it was too late. Battle lines had been drawn, metaphorically speaking. And now they won’t _listen_. To me. But I’m betting they’d listen _to you_.”

“Okay. So, say I agree to speak for you. If this is a negotiation to get out of a fight, you should offer them something, _something they’ll want_. Not just an end to the constant testing, or that you’ll take Jack in hand and teach him, because those should just be _givens_. No, you need to _reward_ them for their past successes, for having kept you entertained, for – how long?”

“About fourteen years, give or take, on a constant basis. Well, really, their whole lives. And well, really, I set up at least part of it a really long time ago, that it would be their destinies… Yeah, wow, _I really am a **dick**_ ,” Chuck realized.

“Okay, so, you need to reward them pretty _significantly_ , then. You must know Sam and Dean pretty well, given that you’ve watched them so much; what would they like?” Kathy asked.

“Honestly? I really don’t know. I mean, I’d be willing to give them just about anything they want. But, like, Dean is really frugal, he prides himself on it. If I just handed him a ton of money, it’d just go in a bank account and he’d never touch it. They always wanted a home, but they have one, now, they call it the Bunker, and it’s, eh, it’s pretty nice, really. Dean’s in a relationship.... So, yeah, I really have no idea _what_ to give them, beyond telling them I’ll just leave them alone. If that’s not enough, I’m open to suggestions, really.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The schools Gabe lists are real schools, and the information about them is accurate (although I have no way of knowing whether or not the Archangel Gabriel really attended school at any of them!). I sent him to school in Norway and Sweden because of his Norse pantheon connection. ;)
> 
> Comments, please?? :)


	92. Thanks Again, Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes more letters and another journal entry.

After the movie, Dean had more letters he wanted to write; he wasn’t ready for sleep, and he knew it would take his mind off of Cas’ conversation with Amara, and Cas being gone, to write. So, even though he’d already written a journal entry and some letters earlier in the day, he got out his notebook and pen, and sat down at his desk again, to write some more.

***

_Dear Donna,_

_The last time I saw you, I came down on you, kind of hard. I know that I already apologized, and I know that you’re perfectly willing to accept me, and to love me as a friend and family member, just as the person that I have been. I love that about you, Donna, that you are so open, and giving, and willing to love._

_The problem, though, is that **I’m not willing to be that person any more**. I am an alcoholic, and I have long suffered from very low self-esteem and anxiety. I have had an extremely bad self-image, and a tendency to believe that no matter how much I give to others, I have no right to receive anything back from them. I have been in denial about these traits for a very long time. It took nearly losing the person I care about most in the world, and Sam laying down the law, for me to admit that I needed help, and to finally seek it, but I am in therapy, now._

_I thought about explaining my past to you; you deserve to know the whole story. But honestly, at this point, it just doesn’t matter. The past is in the past, and I don’t feel like dragging it out again and again and again. **If you ever feel you need to know something, ask, and I promise that I will tell you**. It’s not that I want to **hide** anything from you. It’s more that I’m finally feeling free of it, and thinking about dredging it up to write about it now makes me feel vaguely nauseous._

_So, for now, I will just say **this** – I’ve been through a lot of crap that wasn’t my fault; I did a lot of things that I thought were right at the time, but turned out to be awful later; and then I did some things that were bad, knowing full well they were awful when I did them. And the sum total of all of those experiences left me feeling like **I didn’t deserve to be loved**._

_What changed my mind? **Cas**. I think I’ve been in love with him since we met, but I never had the nerve to tell him. I didn’t believe that I deserved him, fully believed that he would reject me. I didn’t understand that he was dealing with his own insecurities, and that by never telling him how I felt, I was making him believe that I thought he was unworthy of me. We’ve finally gotten past all of that, and told each other how we feel, and we’re finally together. (If your reaction to that is along the lines of, “it’s about time,” do me a favor; don’t tell me, okay? Apparently, everyone and their uncle knew how we felt about each other, except for us. **Hey! I can hear you giggling, woman!** )_

_Sam drew a parallel between **your** tendency to accept others’ opinions of your own self-worth and **my** tendency to run myself down. It’s not entirely valid, but you do concern me, sometimes. I worry that you don’t know how amazing you are; that you don’t understand that just talking to you or seeing you makes my whole day better. **Knowing you makes my life better**._

_You are truly beautiful, inside and out. Believe it._

**_Your soul shines, sweetheart._ **

_I love you._

_Always,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Alex,_

_I’ve never been as close to you as I’ve been to Claire. That’s fine; it’s not a competition. Perhaps it’s because you’ve always seemed so… self-contained. You had no one on whom you could really rely when you were young, and once we had you safely away from Celia and your “brothers,” you certainly didn’t need **me**. It didn’t take long before Jody told us that you were fitting in well at school, had a boyfriend, were in the honors program._

_You didn’t want me and Sam around to remind you of your past, and that’s your right, that’s entirely fair. Your past is your past, and you don’t need to be reminded of it. You don’t need to be **ashamed** of it, either; you had no choice but to do as you did. Be proud of the fact that you survived it._

_I know that you struggled with the decision about whether or not you should hunt. I know that Jody has talked with you about whether or not that life is right for you. I know that you have hunted, and that you have potential. You could be very good at it, if you chose to do it. I don’t know if you’ve made a final decision, or not. You should know that **whatever** you decide, I will always support you in your decision. If you want to hunt, I want you to know that I would be honored to help you train, if you wanted that. If you choose not to hunt, that’s good, too._

_I saw you in action at the hospital when we were there with Jody last week (not for the first time). **You were impressive** , even with being run off your feet after only an hour in. It’s obvious how much you care for the kids in your charge. Perhaps that’s partly because no one cared for you, then._

_I hope you know how many people care about you, now. **I hope you know that I am one of them**._

_You are so strong, and you do so much good in the world, whether as a hunter, or as a nurse, or just hanging out with friends and family. You make us a stronger unit. I’m glad we found you, and that you decided to stick around._

_I know that you don’t need me to be, and don’t need me to say that I am. But I need to say it, for me: **I am so proud of you**._

_I love you._

_Always,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Adam,_

_It’s hard to write a letter to you. I didn’t know you very long. When I first thought I was meeting you, it wasn’t **you** at all; it was a shapeshifter pretending to be you, and you were already dead. Then Team Michael brought you back, once they realized I wasn’t going to consent to Michael using me, and between when you were brought back, and when Michael possessed you and Cas hit you with the flaming grenade in Stull Cemetery, wasn’t a very long period of time, and we didn’t spend much of it getting to know one another._

_When I first learned of your existence, I was so angry with our father. First, that he had betrayed the memory of my mom; second, that he’d never told me about you; third, that you had apparently had a normal life, with your mother, in a house, where you got to go to the same school, have the same friends, and just be a kid, in a way that Sam and I were never allowed. Dad had us out on the road with him from the time I was five; Sam was just 18 months old. The ‘shifter told us that Dad would come by to see you, and took you to baseball games on your birthday. I was lucky if Dad remembered that I **had** a birthday. **I resented you.**   
_

_I should have said “yes” to Michael. **It should have been me.** It was always supposed to be **me**. But having been in Hell before – in the Pit, not the Cage, but still – I couldn’t face it. I knew there was a chance that I could end up there yet again, and I couldn’t do it. I watched as Michael, wearing your body, fell after Sam, and there was nothing I could do. Cas was able to get Sam’s body out, but Death had to go back later for his soul – and Death made me choose between Sam and you. I don’t believe now that it was even a valid choice, as I know now that when Michael fell after Sam and Lucifer into the cage, **you were already dead again** , killed by Cas’ grenade. But for a very long time, I felt guilty. There shouldn’t have been a choice to make, because you should never have been Michael’s vessel. **I was a coward**._

_The way that Dad treated you, versus the way he treated Sam and I – that’s on **Dad** , not you. I’m **glad** that you got to see the best side of Dad; that while he wasn’t always there, when he was, it seemed like he was actually present – sober and loving. I wish that Sam and I had always had that side of Dad, too, but the fact that we didn’t had **nothing** to do with you._

_I’m sorry for how I treated you, I’m sorry that I didn’t say “yes” to Michael, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that you had to. I’m sorry the angels resurrected you, just so you could die again so soon afterward. I’m sorry that we never really had the chance to know one another, to really be brothers. From the little time we did have, you seemed like a good guy._

_I wish I could say that I loved you, but I didn’t know you long enough nor well enough for that._

_Goodbye, Adam._

_Dean_

_***_

**_Saturday evening_ **

_I’m not sure that my letter to Adam really captures the extent of my regret about that entire situation; that whole mess was so fucked up, from Adam already being dead when we first found out about him, to learning about his existence from a shapeshifter pretending to be him, to finding out that he was dead, to having to deal with Zachariah’s smug face after the angels brought Adam back to life for the express purpose of being Michael’s vessel after I refused, to him being blown up, to us not realizing he’d been killed in that explosion and thinking he was in the Cage, to believing Death when he made me choose between my brothers – and of course, I **had** to choose Sam, the brother I actually knew and had spent my entire life protecting, over Adam, the brother I barely knew existed! – to learning that Adam was never actually in the Cage at all, but had been in Heaven the whole time._

_I will never understand why Dad didn’t tell us about Kate and Adam. What would have been so hard, about telling us that he’d met a nice woman and wanted to date her? That dating had led to something more, which had led to a half-brother? He told Kate about us, apparently. I just don’t get why he didn’t tell us about her. I don’t know. One more mystery about John Winchester about which I’ll never get an answer._

**_Thanks again, Dad._ **

***

Dean stared at the page for a minute, then put the pen and notebook away.

He looked at the clock; it wasn't all that late.

_I'm not tired. I'm not hungry. I don't want coffee, or I'll never **be** tired._

He pulled out his cell phone. He stared at it, like that would make it ring. He put it back in his pocket. He took it back out, and opened his contacts list. He closed it again.

He knew what he wanted. He wanted Cas to check in again, wanted to hear his angel's gravelly voice.

_Shouldn't Cas be in Laramie by now?_

He felt like a teen-aged girl waiting by the phone. Ugh.

And then it rang.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's pining for Cas like the dead parrot* pines for the fjords. ;)  
> *Monty Python reference, if you didn't get that. Google "Monty Python dead parrot sketch."
> 
> So, more progress, I think. Is there anyone else to whom you'd like to see Dean write a letter? (Benny, Pamela, Rufus, Garth, Donatello?) Or should it just be regular journaling for Sunday and Monday?
> 
> Please comment. And thanks to all of you who have been all along. It really is appreciated! :)


	93. Winding Down the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabe get some work done. Cas checks in with Dean.

Shann had left for the day, to return on Monday. Sam and Gabe were still in the library; Gabe was working on a translation, and Sam was working on applying an earlier translation to try to decode a spell, but not having much luck with it.

“Well, shit; doesn’t look like Enochian is the right language for this codex, either. I give up.” Sam threw up his hands.

“What have you tried, so far?”

“Enochian, Sumerian, Latin, Tamil, Sanskrit, and ancient Egyptian.”

“How about Armenian?”

“Maybe. Or Aramaic. Not tonight. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, much less this bunker, to keep me awake long enough to try another language tonight.” Sam yawned and stretched.

“I could give it a shot when I finish this,” Gabe offered.

“Nah. It’ll keep.” Sam smiled. “Thanks, though.”

“Sure.” Gabe looked like he wanted to say something more, but then didn’t.

“What were you thinking, just then?” Sam asked.

“Nothing. Well… no. Never mind.”

“Which?”

Gabe sighed. “I just wanted to say… that I’m really _sorry_ , Sam. You were right. Fighting with Michael was reckless and stupid, and I knew I was most likely throwing my life away. And I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“So, then, why did you, Gabe?”

“I was tired of running, tired of hiding. I felt it was time to take a stand. And it meant you, Dean, and Cas, could get away, get back to this world. I saw you go. I knew you all were safe.” Gabe shrugged. “It was worth it to me.”

“Actually, Lucifer came through, too, and killed Cas right after, right by this world’s side of the rift.”

“Wait…what?”

“And then Jack called for Cas, and his call reached all the way to The Empty, and Cas woke up. He said he _annoyed_ The Cosmic Entity so much, it let him go.”

Gabe snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“No, it’s true. Ask Jack, or Dean. Ask Cas tomorrow.”

“Ask me what?” Jack said, entering the library with a stack of books he was returning.

“Hey, Jack, tell your Uncle Gabe about how you brought Cas back from The Empty.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jack put the books down on the table. “Lucifer came through the rift right behind Dad, and stabbed him. I had just been born, so I didn’t see it happen, but Dean told me, later. My mom had told me things before I was born, and I knew my father was Castiel, not Lucifer. So when I found out Castiel was dead, I called out to him. He heard me in The Empty, and he woke up. And then he just annoyed The Cosmic Entity until it let him go.”

“See, Gabe?” Sam grinned.

“Okay, okay,” Gabe said, raising his hands in defeat.

“So, Jack, Dean says the driving practice has been going well. You must be _really_ good, for him to let you drive Baby.” Sam smiled.

“She’s such a _great_ car,” Jack enthused. “G’night, Uncle Gabe; night, Sam.” He bounded out of the library.

“How does he sleep with that much energy?” Sam wondered.

“It’s a mystery.” Gabe grinned.

They were quiet for a moment.

Without looking up from his book, Sam said, quietly, “I really am glad that you’re back, Gabe.”

Equally quietly, Gabe replied, “I really am sorry that I left you, Sam. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I can promise it won’t happen the same way. You were right; I was reckless and stupid, and I won’t do that again.”

“Okay. Good. Thank you.”

“So, what are the chances that you and I…?”

“Gabe, that’s like looking out the window, seeing that it’s _already raining_ , and asking for the _chance_ of precipitation.”

“Oh. **_Oh!_ _”_**

***

Dean answered the phone on the first ring. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. I am in Laramie, I’ve checked in to my motel, and there’s a restaurant next door that has a sign advertising ‘great burgers,’ and that made me think of you. I miss you.”

Dean smiled. “I miss you, too, Angel. We’re getting kinda sappy, here. It hasn’t even been three hours since we last talked.”

Cas laughed. “I _like_ sappy, Dean.”

“Yeah, me too, Cas. Me too.” Dean grinned.

“So, what did you do after _Grail_ was over?”

“We watched part of _Life of Brian_ , but then Sam and Gabe had some work to do, and Jack got a call from a friend, so I went in my room and wrote some more.”

“Is it still helping?”

“I think so. We’ll see what Mia thinks on Tuesday.”

“Where in the Bunker are you?”

“In our room.” Dean smiled softly at being able to call it that.

“I’m just picturing you. Are you at your desk?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I had just finished my journal entry right before you called. Where are you, right this minute?” Dean wanted to know.

“Sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking I should go to sleep soon, so I can get up earlier, and get _home_ quicker.”

“ _Yeah_.”

“I could….” Cas started, then stopped.

“You could… what, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I _could_ just fly there, right now, and then fly back in the morning for the truck. There’s really no reason why I _have_ to stay here overnight.”

“Oh. Well. It’s not like it wouldn’t be _nice_ to have you here, Angel. I miss you. I’d love to snuggle with you. But I don’t think you should waste your grace. There’s no emergency here; I’m fine, Sam’s fine. Gabe’s here, if a crisis were to arise. I think you should stay there and rest up, make sure your grace is fully charged for when you need it, and we’ll see you tomorrow.

"And Cas? That’s _not_ me saying ‘I don’t want you.’ That’s me saying ‘I want you at 100%, so please take care of yourself for me.’ Okay?”

Cas smiled. “All right, Dean. Thank you.”

“Why don’t we each get ready for bed, and get ourselves tucked in, and then have another call, in, say, thirty minutes, to say good night?” Dean suggested.

“Okay. Talk to you then.”

“Okay.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww. Such fluffy sweetness. :D
> 
> Please comment. It's been a while. I miss you. ;)


	94. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sees something in the mirror, and writes another short journal entry. Jack has a dream. Dean and Cas speak again by phone.

Dean grabbed his things and headed for the bathroom. He used the toilet, took a quick shower and washed his hair, dried off, got dressed in old comfy sweatpants and a sweatshirt that he thought had probably been Sam’s originally, and brushed his teeth. He looked in the mirror, and was a tiny bit startled by what he saw.

He was used to seeing the reflection of a man who looked battle-weary, even when he’d had enough rest; but now, he thought he maybe looked a little younger, more alive, _happier_. His eyes weren’t so sunken, they were wider, the eyelids weren’t drooping from exhaustion. His cheeks weren’t sunken in; they looked… _rosy_. Even his forehead didn’t seem as creased.

Part of it, he knew, was from having been healed, completely, by Cas recently. Part was from simply resting better, with fewer nightmares. Part was due to having cut out the drinking. But he thought the vast majority of it was due to the fact that he, for the first time he could honestly remember, ever in his life, was _happy_.

He returned to his room, and saw that he still had ten minutes before speaking with Cas again.

_There’s time. One more quick journal entry._

He got the notebook and pen back out.

***

**_Continuing on Saturday evening_ **

_I was startled by my own reflection in the mirror when I went to get ready for bed just now. I look younger, healthier, more alive, than I have in a very long time. Partly because Cas healed me recently, and I’ve been having fewer nightmares with him around, so I’ve been getting more rest; partly because I’ve stopped drinking. But most of it is really because, for the first time in my life, ever, that I can remember… I’m **happy**._

_I spoke with Cas between writing the earlier entry and going to get ready for bed, and he offered to use his wings and fly back here, then fly back to Laramie (where he’s stopped for the night on the way back from the cabin he rented) in the morning to get his truck. And it was tempting. **But I didn’t need it.** I am secure in how I feel about Cas to the point where I was okay with telling him to stay in Laramie and rest up. I made sure to tell him that I wasn’t saying “I don’t want you,” but rather “I do want you, at 100%, so please take care of yourself for me.”_

_For so long, I didn’t believe I’d ever get to be in a real relationship (as opposed to a one-night stand / random fling) at all, much less one that was good, much less the one that I wanted most, with Cas; now, I’m in it, and I believe in it, and I feel… **light**. Like there was a weight on me that now is just gone. I feel safe. I feel loved, even with Cas being away from home. I don’t need to be with him to be **with him**._

_However, we did arrange to call again after we had each gotten ready for bed, and he’ll be calling shortly, so I don’t want to get too involved with writing. I just wanted to be sure to note how I felt when I looked in the mirror. I felt good. I felt loved. I felt healthy. I felt happy._

_I want to remember that feeling. I want that feeling all the time. I want to let my anger go. I don’t want my past to rule me anymore._

_**I feel free**._

***

Dean capped the pen, put the pen and notebook away, got his phone, and went to lay down on the bed to take the call from his Angel.

***

_Jack was walking in a field of tall grass and flowers. He thought he maybe recognized it, but couldn’t quite place it. Then it opened up into a yard, framed by gardens, and there was a dog._

_I know that dog, don’t I? What is its name…? Hoover? Coolidge? **Roosevelt**!_

_That was it. It was the dog from his mother’s Heaven, the one who was killed when she was in high school, that he’d seen when he’d visited her._

**_Am I in Heaven again? Did I die?_ **

_“No, Jack. You’re not dead. You’re just dreaming.” He turned around, and his mother was behind him, smiling softly up at him. “Hello, son.”_

_“Mother,” he breathed. “Is this real? Or am I **just** dreaming?”_

_“I’m just visiting you in your dreams, sweetheart. I’ve done so before, you just didn’t remember it when you woke up again,” Kelly told him._

_“Will I remember, this time?” he asked._

_“Yes. You **need** to. I have something to tell you,” she replied. “You need to remember to tell Castiel something for me. All right? You need to tell Castiel this: **‘The light is important. You’re not imagining it. It’s the key. The light is the key.’** Remember that, Jack.”_

_“I will. I’ve missed you, Mom,” he told her._

_“I’ve missed you, too, baby. Sleep well. Remember – **‘the light is the key.’** ” Kelly smiled and kissed his forehead, and vanished._

_And then, Jack was back in the field, walking through the tall grass and flowers again._

***

In his sleep, Jack smiled, and snuggled deeper into his blankets.

***

Dean again answered his phone on the first ring. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Which pjs are you wearing, Cas? I didn’t see what you packed.”

“Actually, I’m just wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I think I must have ‘inherited’ them from Sam; the shirt says ‘Stanford.’”

“I am, too! My shirt doesn’t say anything, but it’s pretty big, so I’m assuming that, at one point, it had to have been Sam’s originally.” Dean laughed.

“Between the two of us, it’s a wonder Sam has any clothing,” Cas joked, smirking a little.

“I really should take you out shopping, Cas.” Dean suddenly felt a little guilty; he’d meant to do that earlier, had thought about it on Wednesday, but hadn’t acted.

“All right.”

For some reason, Cas’ calm acceptance made Dean’s guilt worse. “I mean, I know you like that suit, Cas, but it’s getting pretty threadbare. And you need a decent winter coat.”

“Claire mentioned to me, as well, that I didn’t have to just live with what her father had chosen to wear. But I suppose I found Jimmy’s clothes to be comfortable, and I just never bothered to think much about it.”

“Well, you _should_ , Cas.” Dean was starting to sound irritable.

“Okay…. Dean, are you all right?” Cas asked, hesitantly.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Dean snapped.

And then he heard himself, and realized what he was doing. “ _Oh, shit_. No. I’m _not_. I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Dean, what just happened?”

Dean shook his head, hearing the concern. “I felt _guilty_ , Cas. I’d mentioned earlier in the week that I wanted to take you shopping, get you new clothes, but I didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t follow through, didn’t take care of you the way I should, the way that I want to. The more you agreed with me that new clothes were needed and that going shopping would be appropriate, the more irritated with myself I got, but instead of taking it out on _myself_ , I snapped at _you_.”

“Okay. Well, I appreciate that you want to take care of me, Dean, but I am fully _capable_ of going to a store, I just haven’t bothered to do so. Plus, I believe you earlier mentioned taking me shopping on Wednesday night; it’s only Saturday, now, and it’s been a busy week. There’s no reason for you to feel guilty, at all, simply because we haven’t _yet_ gone shopping together. We’ll get there. As for snapping at me because you were irritated with yourself, you _weren’t_ just irritated with yourself, Dean; you were irritated with me, too, and _for good reason_ – I’ve been wearing the same damned suit for eleven years, and I haven’t bothered to take care of replacing it myself. You’re right. I should have, long before now,” Cas admitted.

“Well, see, that’s why you start blaming yourself when I tell you something’s your fault, Cas.” Dean’s irritation was gone, and now he was seeing the humor in the situation. “I apologize. Let’s start over.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Cas smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

“I miss you, Angel, but I’m glad you’re safely resting.”

“Are you in bed, yet, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I’m laying down, Cas. Are you?”

Cas had been sitting on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t, but…” he laid back, and continued, “I am now.”

Dean smiled. “I know we were going to wait and do our next ‘one new thing’ tomorrow night when you got back, but I just thought of a new thing we could do right now.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little hiccup, there, but Dean caught it. :)
> 
> Told you, that light's important.... ;)
> 
> Comments?


	95. New Things and Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas explore alternate uses of the telephone. Sam and Gabe go for a run.

“Are you in bed, yet, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I’m laying down, Cas. Are you?”

Cas had been sitting on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t, but…” he laid back, and continued, “I am now.”

Dean smiled. “I know we were going to wait and do our next ‘one new thing’ tomorrow night when you got back, but I just thought of a new thing we could do right now.”

“Oh?” Dean could practically hear Cas’ ears perk up.

“Mmhmm. Ever have phone sex, Cas?” Dean smirked a tiny bit.

Cas was silent.

“Cas? What’s wrong?”

“I’m having difficulty understanding how having _sex with a telephone_ could be considered _pleasurable_ , Dean. Is it from setting it to _vibrate_?” Cas sounded so genuinely confused that Dean had to laugh.

“Oh, no, Cas. No, Angel, that’s not what ‘phone sex’ means.”

“Oh.” Now Cas sounded grumbly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t laugh. But no, phone sex is where two people who’d like to be having sex, but are too far apart for it to be feasible, like we are now, call each other on the phone, and take turns describing what they’d like to be doing with the other person, if they were actually in the same place. Also, some people go into online chat rooms and have the same kind of conversations there, and then it’s called ‘cybersex.’

“So, it could start by one person saying something like, for example, _‘if I were there, I’d kiss you softly on the cheek and hold you close,’_ and the other person responding with something like, _‘and then I would snuggle up against you.’_ And as they describe what they’d _like_ to be doing, they imagine that they’re _actually_ doing it. As the conversation progresses, and what they’re describing is getting steamier, each of them might touch themselves, so that as they describe imagining getting each other off, it actually happens for each of them,” Dean explained.

“Oh, I see. So, if we were to do this, and we got to the ‘steamy’ portion, if I were to say, _‘and then I would reach down and stroke you,’_ then you would stroke yourself, so that you’d actually feel what I was telling you I was imagining doing to you?”

“Right. Some people use it as a safe way of exploring a sexual activity they have a fantasy about, but are nervous about really enacting – it keeps it in the realm of fantasy, but makes it more vivid. It can help them decide if it’s something they would really like to try, or if it’s something that’s better kept in the imagination. Or, if one partner had physical limitations that kept them from actually doing something that they really wanted to try, imagining doing it over the phone might work better.”

Cas suggested, “So, for example, a person with bad knees, who wanted to show submission to their partner by kneeling, but literally couldn’t physically do it, over the phone could _say_ that they were kneeling and the person they were submitting to could imagine it in the proper context.”

“Exactly.” Dean was a little impressed by Cas' knowledge of submission dynamics, although he wasn't going to bring that up right now. Maybe later.

“I understand, now, Dean. Thank you for explaining it to me.

“So, _if you were here_ , Dean… what would you want to do with _me_? How would you start?” Cas smiled.

Dean grinned. “I would lay down next to you, curl up with you in my arms, and hold you close, nuzzling against your shoulder.”

“Mmm. Not fair, you know I love that, Dean. Well, I guess, then, I would have to snuggle back, trying to get closer to you, and then I’d tilt my head back for a kiss.”

“And I would lean down and kiss you gently, Angel. Then I would lean back, and take off my sweatshirt, and ask you to remove yours.”

“Which I would do, happily. Then I would squirm back again until my bare back met your bare chest.”

Cas’ low gravelly voice had Dean closing his eyes, shivering a little; he rolled onto his side, and hugged a pillow, trying to get a feel for what they were imagining together; not difficult, since they’d done this much – and more – together, already.

“I would wrap myself around you and hold you tight, so you didn’t need to squirm, because we’re already as close as can be,” Dean told his angel.

“I can feel you, everywhere, when you do that, and it’s amazing. It calms me, Dean.”

“Are you anxious, Angel?” Dean asked.

“ _Excited. Nervous, in a good way_. Your touch grounds me, centers me, pulls me in so I don’t explode with happiness. You give me focus. I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, too, Cas.”

“Dean? Would you mind if this was as far as we took this, for now, over the phone? I’m enjoying the fantasy, but honestly, I’d rather be with you, for real, in person, to go further than this.”

Dean smiled softly. “That’s absolutely fine with me, Angel. We should both get some sleep. You still have about seven hours to drive tomorrow, baby.”

“Good night, my heart. Sleep well.”

“G’night, Angel.”

***

Sunday morning dawned cold. Sam went for his run anyway. He had his ear buds in, and was stepping in time to the Cult’s _She Sells Sanctuary_ , not paying attention to the world around him for the most part.

_Oh, the heads that turn_

_Make my back burn_

_And those heads that turn_

_Make my back, make my back burn._

_The sparkle in your eyes_

_Keeps me alive_

_And the sparkle in your eyes_

_Keeps me alive, keeps me alive._

And then the sparkling eyes he’d been thinking of were peering up into his; Gabe was running backward in front of him, grinning. He stopped, and took a breath. Gabe did, as well.

“Hiya, Sammy.” Gabe smiled, a purely sweet, infectiously happy, smile.

Sam couldn’t help but smile back. “Mornin’. Since when do you run?”

“With all the sugar I eat? Are you _kidding_? It’s not my grace that keeps me trim, Sam.”

“Why _do_ you eat so much sugar, anyway?” Sam asked, curious.

“All we taste, really, is molecules. Carbon by itself is kinda nasty. But C12H22O11? Perfect.”

“C12H22O11?”

“Chemical composition of basic table sugar.”

“Ah.”

“You wouldn’t think hydrogen and oxygen would add so much to carbon, but… mmm mmm mmm. _Bellissima_.”

Sam laughed.

“So, do you mind if I run with you, Samshine?” Gabe asked.

“Not at all. If you can keep up,” Sam joked.

“Sounds like a challenge. I like it.” Gabriel grinned. Sam took off again at an easy lope, and Gabe followed, silently using his grace to keep Sam’s path clear of ice and debris, out of long habit.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cas. He goes from 0-120 in about 3 seconds though, doesn't he? From not knowing what "phone sex" is to bringing up kneeling in submission... Whew! *fans self* ;)
> 
> She Sells Sanctuary is a great song to exercise to, by the way. ;)
> 
> Comments, please and thank you? :D


	96. Regrets, Stirrings, Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up missing Cas. Gabe reflects on his failings. Sam can't stand to see Gabe unhappy. Dean writes in his journal and works himself up into a panic attack.

Dean woke slowly. Before opening his eyes, he took stock, and decided something felt off, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He wasn’t hungover; he hadn’t had a drink in a week, not since the disastrous beers at Jody’s. He needed caffeine, of course; but that was just mornings in general. He wasn’t feeling the usual morning pain in his joints; Cas had healed him too recently – Cas. That was what was off about this morning. Cas wasn’t here. Cas was in a motel in Laramie, Wyoming, seven hours’ drive away, and wouldn’t be home until this evening. Of course, Dean knew, he could call him, or text him, and Cas would answer. But he already felt like waking up not wrapped around his angel was just wrong.

He chuckled. Eleven years of refusing to even contemplate being with the guy, and only a week after they had admitted to being in love with each other, waking up without him already felt wrong?

_Dean Winchester, you are being ridiculous and sappy._

_Yeah, but I already told Cas that I **like** sappy. I might never admit it to anyone else, but I do, and if I wanna be sappy in my own head on a Sunday morning alone in bed, then, dammit, I will._

_And now I’m talking to myself. Great._

_Well, if I’m going to argue with myself, I should do it in writing._

Dean opened his eyes, and got up. First things first.

_Shower. Clothes. Caffeine. Actual food, and **more** caffeine._

These things were necessary.

But before any of that… he picked up his phone and checked his messages.

 ** _And lo_** , there were two texts from Cas:

**_5:03 AM My Angel > Gd mrng, D. I M sure U R not awake, + I d/n want 2 disturb U, so I M just texting. I M on rd early 2B w/U ASAP. Truck has Bluetooth, if U want 2 call when U wake up. If I d/n hear from U, I’ll call U when I gas up in Big Springs, NE, 1/2way home._ **

**_5:05 AM My Angel > Lv u, my <3._ **

He grinned at Cas’ text-speak, and sent a text of his own:

**_8:07 AM Me > Lv u 2, Angel. Call when U stop. D/n want to distract U._ **

If Cas was making good time, he’d be getting to Big Springs in about 30-45 minutes. He could get ready and eat, and maybe even journal, before then. That sounded like a better plan than trying to call Cas without having had some coffee; especially after his lapse of the evening before, which he needed to remember to write about today.

_That’s a solid plan._

He grabbed his things, and headed for the bathroom.

***

Gabriel had no problem keeping up with Sam on his run, _because Gabriel had always kept up with Sam on his run_.

From the time Gabe had first met Sam way back when, when he’d still been pretending to be just a Trickster, before he’d died, before Asmodeus, before he’d faked his death, before Mystery Spot, _way way back_ when they’d first met, Gabriel had known. Had known that he was _supposed_ to be Sam’s guardian angel; had known that he hadn’t been living up to that responsibility; had known that, at the time, he _couldn’t_ , not without outing himself to his family from whom he’d been hiding for literal millennia. After meeting Sam, Gabe had read Sam’s destiny. Gabe had cried then, for the first time since leaving home. To be guardian to Lucifer’s vessel, and to have abandoned the task for nearly all of Sam’s destined lifespan? He’d felt horribly guilty, immediately.

He’d known he couldn’t protect Sam from his Father and brothers, and the destiny they intended to impose upon Sam. So, he’d tried to _prepare_ Sam for it, instead – that had been the whole point of the Mystery Spot gambit, to prepare Sam (and Dean, to a lesser extent) for the destiny that awaited him, even though Gabe had hated it the entire time.

If he’d been living up to his responsibilities as he should have been, Azazel wouldn’t have been able to come within ten miles of Sam’s nursery. Mary would have lived. The boys would never have had to have been out on the road, living the life of nomads, with an alcoholic, too-often absent father. Sam would have finished college, gone to law school, married Jess. Jake Talley and his damn knife wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near Sam, and Dean would never have made his deal, would never have gone to Hell, would never have broken the First Seal.

But no. _Gabriel had been in hiding, had been avoiding his duties, and hadn’t picked up his guardian assignments since he’d first left Heaven_. He’d occasionally felt the pull of guardianship, and had known he was ignoring a charge, but he’d never met one of his ignored charges – **_until Sam_**.

So, since meeting Sam, whenever he could spare time, in all the years between then and now, when one or both of them weren’t dead on some technicality or other, _Gabriel had accompanied Sam on his morning run_. Not that Sam had ever been aware of that, of course.

He wondered idly if he’d ever have the courage to _tell_ Sam. He’d come close; he’d admitted to Sam, in the kitchen, that he was Sam’s guardian angel. He didn’t think Sam knew or fully understood what that meant, though. Sam had seen how Cas was with Dean, of course, but Cas hadn’t been Dean’s guardian _since birth_ , only since Dean had gone to Hell, in the deal he hadn’t been supposed to make. _The deal Gabriel should have prevented_. Using Cas was a _back-up plan_ , only implemented _after_ Gabe had failed so spectacularly. He wondered if Cas knew.

“You’re quiet back there. You okay, Gabe?” Gabriel realized that Sam had stopped at the trail’s final mile marker to take his pulse and catch his breath, and was now speaking to him.

“Sorry, wh…? Oh, yeah. I’m good. Just kinda lost in my own thoughts, sorry. I thought you were listening to music?”

“I was, for a while. But it’s on my phone, and there’s no signal out here, this far from the Bunker and our own wi-fi. Nearest cell tower’s on the other side of the Bunker from here. So, once I get out here, there’s no music to listen to.” Sam stretched a bit.

Gabe just nodded, apparently once again lost in thought. Looking at him now, Sam thought he looked unhappy. Downright miserable, in fact.

“Hey, Gabe, could you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? Sure, Samshine, what do you need?”

“Just stand right here….” Sam maneuvered Gabe up onto a small hill, so their difference in height wasn’t quite so obvious. “There… perfect. Now just hold still, one second, and... close your eyes?”

Gabe huffed out a laugh, but did as asked. And Sam leaned in, his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders, and kissed him gently. Sam leaned back, watching Gabe’s face with slight apprehension. Gabe swayed once, then took a step and caught himself. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at Sam, and his breath caught.

“Gabe…?”

“Sam. I…” Gabe started, then swallowed hard. “I wasn’t ready. Do you think….”

Sam leaned in and kissed him again, and this time, Gabe kissed back, opening his mouth beneath Sam’s, and reaching up to pull the taller man in closer.

***

Dean came back into his room with his third cup of coffee warm in his hands. He sat down at his desk, got out his notebook and pen, uncapped the pen, and turned to a blank sheet of paper.

***

**_Sunday morning_ **

_I fucked up. I caught myself, and I apologized, but **I fucked up**._

_On Wednesday, I had mentioned to Cas that I wanted to take him shopping, get him some new clothes; he’s basically been wearing the same suit for eleven years, and while his grace keeps it clean enough, it’s getting a little threadbare. And it wasn’t his choice in the first place; it was just what Jimmy was wearing when Cas first possessed him, and Cas just never bothered to change. But then things got busy, as they do, and I forgot all about it, and didn’t take him to the mall._

_Last night, we were on the phone, and we figured out that we were both wearing, as pjs, sweatshirts and sweatpants that used to be Sam’s, from his Stanford days, and Cas made the comment that between us, Sam was lucky to have any clothes left. And then I said, again, that I should take Cas shopping. And I realized that I hadn’t yet, and it had been days since I’d first said it, and I felt horribly **guilty** suddenly, that I had delayed, that I hadn’t taken proper care of Cas, that I wasn’t being a good enough partner. And he agreed with me that he needed new clothes, and that made it worse. But instead of getting irritable with **myself** , I got pissed at **Cas**. And then he asked if I was all right, and I just **snapped** at him. Fortunately, I heard myself, and it brought me out of it._

_But it scared me, a little. I had **just finished** writing about how **good** I felt, how **safe** I felt, and here I was, **backsliding**. Relapsing into my same old hurtful patterns. I **snapped** at Cas, over something so stupid as clothing. How could I do that? How could I hurt Cas, and risk everything we’re building together, over something so **idiotic**?_

_How often did I do that, before? How often did I take some little nothing problem and build it up in my head into something huge, and then snipe at Cas about it? How often did I blame Cas for things that had absolutely nothing to do with him? **Jesus wept, I did it all the fucking time! That’s why he left in the first fucking place!**_

_Dammit._

_I caught it. I apologized. We started our conversation over, and it was good. But I hate realizing how close I came to screwing this up._

_This morning, I woke up, and something felt off, and I couldn’t quite place it. I wasn’t hungover; I hadn’t had a drink in a week. I needed caffeine, of course; but that was just mornings in general. I wasn’t feeling the usual morning pain in my joints because Cas had healed me too recently – **Cas**. That was what was off about this morning. **Cas wasn’t here**._

_I laughed at myself. Eleven years of refusing to even contemplate being with the guy, and only a week after we finally admitted to being in love with each other, waking up without him **already feels wrong?** I heard a tiny voice in my head telling me that I was being ridiculous and sappy. And then I heard another tiny voice saying that I was, but I already told Cas that I **like** sappy. I might never admit it to anyone else, but I **do** , and if I wanna be sappy in my own head on a Sunday morning alone in bed, then, dammit, **I will**. And then, I thought, “And now I’m talking to myself. Great. Well, if I’m going to argue with myself, I should do it in writing.”_

**_And I figured I’d put that in verbatim, because it’ll make you laugh, Mia. Go ahead. I know you want to._ **

_But again, I’m **scared**. If waking up alone feels wrong after a week of being with Cas, how on earth could I have risked screwing things up so badly just the night before? What if I fuck up again, worse, later? In a year or two years from now, when we’ve been together, **really together** , for a while, and I’ve really gotten **used to it** , if I go off and do something stupid and lose him, I think I’d die. And I’m not being at all hyperbolic, I’m stating fact._

_I don’t know what to do, Mia. **I cannot lose Cas.** And that fucking **terrifies** me. Because I know what a coward I am, and I know my tendency to push. The single biggest reason why I might lose Cas is that I will push him away, hurt him, do something entirely fucking **stupid**. And if he goes again, there is no reason on earth why he would come back again; **if I lose him again, it’s forever**._

_He’s supposed to call any minute. I’m afraid to talk to him. I’m afraid **not** to talk to him._

_I can’t breathe._

**_I can’t._ **

**_No._ **

***

He stumbled out into the hallway, gasping for air. He made his way to the War Room, and fell into one of the chairs by the table. He couldn’t catch his breath, and was starting to see dark spots, his vision tunneling. He vaguely heard voices.

“Sam?” he managed to gasp, and then all went black.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit, Dean. *sigh*
> 
> Go, Sam! :)
> 
> Y'all need to comment faster, or I'm gonna stop updating all the damn time. I can write without posting, y'know. I could finish the story and just go away for 3 months and leave you all in the dark about why that light is so important.... Grr. 
> 
> Seriously, guys, comments are life. Please??? :D


	97. Panic! At the Bunker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's panic continues. Cas flies back and sends Gabe for the truck, instead. Gabe hates driving.

Sam and Gabe were just coming in the front door of the Bunker as Dean gasped Sam’s name, then collapsed into the chair and passed out. They hurried down the iron staircase, and Gabriel touched Dean’s forehead.

“Panic attack,” he told Sam. “He’s coming ‘round.”

Sam helped Dean sit up in the chair, and Gabe went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“Dean? What the hell, dude?” Sam said, worry evident.

Dean gripped Sam’s arms. “ _I can’t… can’t lose him… can’t lose him, Sammy, **can’t** …_”

“Calm down, Dean. You can’t lose… who, Cas? You’re not gonna lose Cas, Dean. Calm down. Calm down. Breathe with me, Dean. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. That’s it, just breathe. Relax.”

Dean’s cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out, and saw that it was Cas. He handed the phone to Sam. “I can’t… _can’t_ ….”

“Dean. Dean! Stop hyperventilating! Breathe, man.”

Sam answered the phone. “Dean’s phone, hey Cas, it’s Sam…. He’s having a little bit of a panic attack, I’m not really sure why. Gabe and I were out running, we came back, Dean was passing out from hyperventilation.”

Gabe brought the water over to Dean, and, with a gesture, let Sam know he’d watch Dean and keep his breathing even. Sam took the phone into the kitchen.

“All he keeps saying, over and over, is _‘I can’t… I can’t lose him… I can’t.’_ I thought he meant you, and I said he wasn’t going to lose you, and I got him breathing a little more evenly. Then the phone rang, and he handed it to me, and started in all over again. I don’t know what’s going on, Cas….”

And then Cas was standing in front of Sam. “I’ll talk to him, Sam.”

Cas walked out of the kitchen and into the War Room. Dean was leaning forward in the chair, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Cas gestured to Gabriel, and Gabe went to join Sam in the kitchen. Cas knelt down in front of Dean.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Dean, please.”

Dean looked up and his eyes met Cas’, and he let out a long, shuddering breath. And then he could breathe again, and the panic subsided.

“I’m _scared_ , Cas.”

“What are you afraid of, my heart?”

“I fucked up last night, Cas. And I know, we’re okay now, I caught it, and I apologized, and you were very sweet. But I’m gonna keep fucking up, I know it, because I’m _broken_ , Cas, I’m a fuck-up, I am fucked up, I’m **_broken_** , and I don’t know what you’re doing with me, and the next time I fuck up, you’ll _leave_ , and you won’t come back, and I’ll **_die_**. And I _know_ it sounds ridiculous, and I _know_ you said you won’t leave, but why would you _stay_ when I just keep **_pushing_**?”

Tears were streaming down Dean’s face, and his words were tumbling out of his mouth faster and faster. “I don’t _want_ to fuck up, I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t help it, I’m _broken_ , Cas, I’m **_broken_** , and you’re _perfect_ and _good_ and _wonderful_ and **_amazing_ **and I can’t, _I can’t_ , noooo….”

“Dean, Dean, it’s all right, calm down. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll send Gabe to get the truck, okay? I’ll stay with you. _I won’t leave you_. Breathe, Dean. Shhh, just breathe, my love, it’s all right, I’m here, I’m here, and _I’m not going anywhere_. You’re _not_ broken, baby. You’re my heart. Shhh now, shhh. Calm down, calm down, breathe… just _breathe_ … that’s it. Good.

“Now I’m just going to go speak with Gabe for one second, all right? You just breathe, Dean. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

Dean nodded, and Cas rose and walked into the kitchen.

“Cas, what the hell?” Sam asked.

“Panic attack, Sam.

“Gabe, I need you to go get my truck, please. It’s at the TravelPlaza in Big Springs, Nebraska, just off I-80. I already filled the tank and paid for the gas. Here’s some cash, in case you need to stop again. You do remember how to drive, yes? And can figure out how to get here from there?”

“I got it, Cassie. You take care of Dean.” Gabe vanished.

“ _Why_ is Dean having panic attacks and passing out, Cas? What’s going on?” Sam demanded.

“On Wednesday, Dean mentioned that he wanted to take me clothes shopping. We have not yet had the opportunity to make that happen. Last night, we were on the phone, and discovered that we were both wearing your old Stanford sweatpants and shirts that you had given us. I made a joke about how, between us, you were lucky to have any clothes left at all. Dean mentioned again that he needed to take me shopping. And he started to feel guilty that he had not done so already, in the three days since mentioning it previously. I calmly accepted that I do, in fact, need new clothes, and that made him feel _worse_. Eventually, he said something a little snappish, and I asked if he was all right. And then he snapped at me – _‘I’m fine_.’”

“Oh, _no_ ,” Sam groaned.

“He heard himself, and it brought him out of it, Sam. He apologized, immediately, and told me what was wrong, and why. And the rest of our conversation was lovely and fun, and he seemed fine when we said good night. And this morning, I got on the road early, so I sent him a text message, and when he woke up, about an hour ago now, he texted back, and he seemed fine, then, as well.

“But sometime between then and now, he seems to have gotten the idea that when he snapped at me last night, that was him, _‘fucking up’_ and that he’s going to continue to ‘fuck up’ because he believes himself to be _‘broken.’_ And that eventually, he’ll fuck up so much that he’ll push me away again, and I’ll leave, and, as a result, he’ll _die_. So he thinks that he _can’t_ lose me, but he’s sure _to_ lose me, because he’ll _push_ , because he can’t stop himself, and he’s certain that, when he pushes, _I’ll go_.

“He’s built this up into a panic loop, and it keeps resetting, and I think the only way to get him out of it is to see that I’m here, and I’m not leaving. And that’s why I sent Gabriel to get the truck.”

Sam nodded.

“So, I’m going to take Dean back to our room, and get him settled, and sit with him until he’s able to discuss things more rationally.” Cas got four bottles of water from the refrigerator. “And if you could make some sandwiches for us in a couple of hours, Sam, and bring them in to us, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course, Cas. Thanks, man. Thanks for taking care of him.” Sam hugged Cas gently.

“ _I love him_ , Sam,” Cas said, simply.

Cas went back out to Dean, and persuaded him to stand, and come to the bedroom with him. Sam watched from the kitchen door, and although he was still concerned, he smiled softly at how good Cas was with Dean.

***

Gabe found Cas’ truck with little difficulty. He walked around it quickly, checking for damage, making sure the fuel tank cap was on tightly, then got in, and started the engine. He drove carefully out of the TravelPlaza’s parking lot, and got on I-80, headed East.

_I hate driving. I hate this truck._

But he loved his brother, and he loved Sam, and Dean-o was family, and he was worried, so he’d suck it up and do what needed to be done.

He’d run from responsibility long enough. He owed Sam and Dean more than they would ever know – unless he told them – and he owed Cas, too, for having picked up his slack – whether Cas knew it, or not. So, he would drive this _fucking_ truck the just over four hours it would take to get back to the Bunker.

And he wouldn’t say a _word_. _About. How. Much. He. **Fucking**. **Hated**. **Doing**. **It**._

Gabe sighed.

And then he saw the signs saying “ _Construction Ahead – I-80 Closed - Detour_.”

“Oh, _fuck me_. Seriously?” he whined.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all didn't really think Dean was just magically cured, right? Progress in therapy is a dance - 1 step forward, 3 steps back, 26 steps forward, 1/2 step back. He's making progress, fast, but he was bound to have continued problems. He's only had 3 sessions so far, after an entire lifetime of neglect, abuse, terror, horror, and self-loathing. OF COURSE he was going to relapse! So, don't get mad at him. Or at me. ;)
> 
> I give and I give and I give. Three updates in less than 24 hours.   
> Not. One. Comment. *sigh*  
> Y'all are killing me.


	98. Leaving Castiel Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathy tried to help Chuck. Sam explains some things to Jack. Jack tells Sam about Kelly's message for Cas.

Kathy was ready to tear out her hair. “Chuck, you _have_ to make a suggestion, and then let them counter. That’s how negotiations _work_. You can’t just start by telling them _‘okay, you have carte blanche, go to town’_! C’mon, you’ve been watching Sam and Dean Winchester their _entire lives_. There must be something that they want that they can only get _from **you**_. _Think!_ ”

They’d been having this discussion for what felt like days. Kathy was exhausted. For his part, Chuck just wanted to throw in the towel, and she understood that; but if she was going to be God’s negotiator, she felt she had an obligation to Him to do a good job.

“Tell you what, Chuck. I’ve gotta go and do my rounds. You can come with me, and get some fresh air and sunshine, or you can stay here, and rest. I don’t care which. But by the time I get back, you need to have thought of _something_ that you can offer to Sam and Dean. It doesn’t have to be _perfect_. It’s a _starting point_ for negotiation. But it has to be something they’ll actually _want_ , so they know that some _effort_ was put into the decision to offer it to them. Okay?” She sighed. “My rounds take about three hours. Did you want to come with me, or stay here?”

“Oh, I’ll stay here. This jacket isn’t really warm enough for out there in this weather. And Kathy? Really, thank you. I know you’re trying to help me. And I really do appreciate it. I’m trying to be better about saying that to people, and meaning it. So, yeah.”

Kathy nodded. “All right. I’ll see you in about three hours, then.”

She left the cabin, and headed for the trail, moving steadily toward the ranger station to check in for the start of her shift.

She did this each day, now, even though it hadn’t been required of her in years. But Chuck had been suspicious of her when she insisted she had to do her rounds of the park each day, starting by checking in at the station, and from the cabin, she knew that the trail was visible right up to the station, and she knew he was watching her from behind the curtain.

She wasn’t _quite_ his prisoner, and she thought she was fairly safe, as long as Chuck thought that he needed her. But she wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t trust Chuck – not after she'd heard Cas’ story.

And no matter how much Chuck insisted she do so, _she wasn’t calling Castiel_ until she knew exactly what Chuck’s game was.

***

Sam went to find Jack. As expected, since he hadn’t been in his own room, the Nephilim was in the library.

“Hey, Jack. Can I talk with you for a couple of minutes, kiddo?”

“Sure, Sam! What’s up?” Jack asked, coming over to sit with Sam at the long library table.

“Jack, you know that Dean and Cas are… together now, right? We all were talking about it the other day, remember?” Sam prompted.

“Yes. Dad and Dean seemed happy about it, then. But earlier today, I felt that Dean was distressed. Is he all right?” Jack bit his lip a little, concerned for Dean.

Sam smiled softly. “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk with you about, Jack. You know that Dean and I didn’t have the easiest life, growing up. We had a lot of adventures, and some of them were pretty frightening. I don’t know how much Dean or Cas have told you about those times, but Dean, in particular, had some very bad experiences, and as a result, he has some psychological issues. You’ve seen for yourself how angry he gets sometimes, and how sometimes he seems to be angry at the wrong person, right?”

Jack nodded. “Usually, it seems to be Dad.”

Sam chuckled. “That’s true. Cas was – is – the one person that Dean has always been able to count on not to leave, no matter how much he turns on them.”

“That’s not right, Sam. Dean counts on _you_ , too.”

“He does, but he also _doesn’t_ turn on me, Jack. At a very young age, Dean was ordered to protect me, and that’s always been his guiding principle – _keep Sam safe_. So, yes, Dean counts on me, but not in the same way that he counts on _Cas_. Do you see?”

Jack nodded again. “He can count on Dad to take what he dishes out, is what you’re saying.”

“Exactly. Except about a month ago, he and Cas had a fight. And it was pretty bad. Dean was blaming Cas for things that weren’t his fault, and Cas, well, he just couldn’t take it any more, and he left. And I think that when he walked out the door, they both thought that it was with the intention that he wasn’t coming back.”

Jack gasped. “I can’t even _imagine_ Dad fighting with anyone!”

Sam grinned. “Well, he has. Remember, Cas was a warrior for Heaven for a really long time, Jack. He commanded a whole garrison of angels. I know that it’s hard to imagine, because he’s such a sweet guy to you, and to Dean, and even to me, but I’ve seen him fight plenty of times, Jack, and trust me – Cas really is pretty much a _bad ass_.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Anyway, after Cas left that night, Dean got very, very drunk. Dangerously so. And the next morning, when he told me about the fight, and I’d cleaned up the mess from his binge, I told him he had to get help – he needed therapy. Do you remember Mia Vallens, Jack? The shapeshifter therapist, who helped you with your grief over losing your mom?”

“Yes, Mia was wonderful. But Dean didn’t want to talk to her when we were there,” Jack recalled.

“That’s true. But she warned him then that his anger could become a problem, and it had. So when I told him he needed to get help, he made an appointment with Mia, and she’s been helping him to explore why he’s so angry all the time, and why it keeps bubbling up at the wrong times, at the wrong people. And he’s been making progress.

"But in addition to anger, Dean also has a problem with low self-esteem. Our father wasn’t always very nice to Dean. I said that Dean was ordered to protect me – our dad did that. He told Dean that Dean had to take care of me, and Dean did so, at the expense of himself, sometimes. And that made him feel like he wasn’t worth anything, because I had Dean to take care of me, but Dean had _no one_ most of the time. See?”

Jack nodded, looking very solemn.

“And there are other reasons why, also, but when it comes right down to it, Jack, Dean doesn’t always like himself very much. He loves a lot of other people, especially Cas, and me, and you, and to us, he gives and gives and gives. But he has a hard time accepting it when other people, sometimes especially us, give him things – including, sometimes especially, _love_. And he’s trying to work on that, too.”

“Okay, that’s _good_.”

“Yes, yes, it is. And again, he’s been making progress on those issues, too. But sometimes progress in therapy isn’t a straight line. You think you’re moving forward, and suddenly, you find yourself trapped back where you started. And Dean had one of those days, today. He had a moment on the phone with Cas last night where he fell back into one of his old patterns; he caught himself immediately, and he apologized for it. Cas was fine, and Dean _seemed_ fine, too.

“But this morning, something set Dean off, and he started to panic, thinking that he was doomed to push Cas away eventually, and eventually Cas would _go_ , and this time, not come back. And he couldn’t handle it. So, Cas flew back from where he was getting gas to take care of him, and Gabriel went to get Cas’ truck, instead.”

“So Dad is _here_ , now?” Jack asked.

“Yes, but he needs to be _with Dean_ , and they need to be quiet, and _alone_ together, so Dean can rest, and heal, and get over his panic. So, I wanted to make sure that you understand, Jack, that they’re not ignoring you, and when Dean feels better, they’ll both want to see you, but for now, please just let them be, okay?”

“Of course, Sam. I’m sure that Dad is very worried about Dean, and that will wear him out. So, I’ll be very quiet, and let them both rest, and heal. But one thing, Sam….”

“What’s that, Jack?”

“Well, I have a message for Dad. From my mom. She visited me in my dreams last night. I think I might have been in her Heaven, it looked like it did before, but I’m not sure. She told me I needed to tell Castiel something for her, and that it was very important that I remembered that I had seen her, and that I remembered the message.”

“Okay. Can you tell me the message, Jack?”

“She just told me to remember to tell _Castiel_. She didn’t say that I _couldn’t_ tell anyone else; so I don’t think she’d mind if I told you, Sam. She said, “Y _ou need to tell Castiel this: ‘ **The light is important. You’re not imagining it. It’s the key. The light is the key.’**_ ”

“ _The light is the key?_ What does that _mean_ , Jack?”

“I don’t know. I’m assuming that Dad will understand it.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go, Kathy! Our girl's no dummy! ;)
> 
> Sam, the gentle giant. :)
> 
> Yeah, that's right, kids. I gave you another chapter, even though y'all clearly don't love me, at all. *sniffle*  
> Please comment. *sniffsniff* *puppy-dog eyes*


	99. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathy is stuck for an idea. Gabe is stuck in traffic. Dean is stuck in his own thoughts, but Cas is helping. Sam is stuck in the kitchen, making lunch.

Kathy got as far as the rocks where she and Cas had sat while he was telling her his story. She sat down, and watched the water for a little while, but it was cold out – too cold to be sitting on a rock for very long – and Cas wasn’t here; he was gone, and he’d finished his story anyway. There was no more story to tell.

Since it had all apparently been _true_ – as she now had _**God himself** sitting in her living room_ – she wished now that she had paid a little more attention to the details of it while he’d been telling it.

Kathy sighed and leaned back on the rock. She wasn’t entirely sure she trusted Chuck’s sincerity, but she wasn’t entirely sure that she _distrusted_ him, either. He could be lying to her, he could be manipulating her, somehow. But into doing _what_? Talking for him? Making peace? If she was really going to be authorized to speak for God, making peace is what she intended to do. But she didn’t think Sam and Dean would take the offer seriously unless it proffered something really good, something they really wanted. She didn’t have any idea what that might be. She thinks Chuck _should_ know, but he isn’t coming up with _anything_.

She couldn’t call Castiel. But who else could she ask?

 _The girl._ Cas had said he had possessed her father, and, briefly, her. The girl knew Sam and Dean, had mentioned them to Cas when he’d gone to visit her…in Oregon… and her name was…. _Shit_.

Claire. She sat bolt upright. That was the girl’s name – Claire.

**_“I went to visit Claire.”_ **

**_“Claire…? Oh, right, the daughter of Jimmy, the guy who became your vessel, who was also briefly your vessel. I remember. When’d you go see her?”_ **

**_“Last night. She was in Oregon.”_ **

**_“You went to Oregon and back last night?”_ **

**_“To Oregon, and then to Minnesota, to see Sam. Then back here.”_ **

**_“Okay. I could’ve sworn I saw your truck by the cabin when I patrolled last night.”_ **

**_“I didn’t take the truck, Kathy. I flew.”_ **

**_“How’d you get to the airport without the truck?”_ **

**_“I didn’t take a plane, Kathy. I just…flew. I have wings, remember?”_ **

She didn’t know the girl’s _last_ name, and even if she could remember it, she didn’t know _where_ in Oregon Claire had been when Cas went to visit her, and had no idea whether or not she’d still be there _now_. Cas had said she was a hunter, and they apparently moved around a lot.

 _Useless_.

Kathy was stuck. Sitting out here wasn’t getting her anywhere. She might as well head back, see if Chuck had come up with an idea.

***

Gabe was stuck. There were apparently three exits one could take to get to the detour around the construction, and everyone and their uncle wanted the first one, and everyone was trying to get over to the right to get to it. Except for him; he’d gladly stay on the highway as long as possible, and take the third exit. But the flaw in that plan was that, in trying to get over to the right, someone up ahead had hit someone else, and now no one was moving at all. Traffic had been stationery for the last hour.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam’s number.

“Hey, Gabe. How’s the drive going?”

“Awful. There’s construction, a detour, an accident, and a traffic jam. It’s a good thing Cassie flew and didn’t try to get to Dean this way. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get back, at this rate; we haven’t moved in an hour. So I thought I’d better let you know that, y’know, I’m not dead again, or something.”

“Well, thank you for letting me know. I’m glad you’re not dead, baby.”

“Did you just….”

“Call you ‘baby’? Yes, I did.” Sam grinned. “See, here’s what you need to know about us Winchesters: We don’t do feelings often, or very well. But we _do_ do nicknames. And if we give you one, it means you’re special to us.”

“Really? I’m special to y… Wait… What does Dean call Cassie?”

“You mean, besides ‘Cas’? Which Dean was the first person ever to call him, apparently? Heh. Dean calls him ‘Angel’, I know I’ve heard that one. I think I’ve heard him use ‘sweetheart’ and maybe ‘baby’ as well. And those three are all from just this past week, since they finally told each other how they feel.

“And _yes_ , you _are_ special to me, baby.”

***

Dean was curled up in bed, shivering under a pile of blankets. Cas was sitting in a chair next to the bed, holding Dean’s hand, keeping up a low running patter of comforting words.

“I’m right here, Dean. I won’t leave you, baby. You’re not broken, my heart.”

“C-Cas, I-I-I c-c-can’t g-get w-warm.” Dean’s teeth were chattering.

“All right, love, one moment.” Cas rose and went to the door. Dean started to whine, but Cas merely locked the door, and returned to him. “Stand up, Dean. I know it seems counter-intuitive to come out from under the blankets, but they’re not helping.”

Dean slid to the edge of the bed, and got up. Cas was stripping off his own clothes quickly, and told Dean to do the same, coming to help as soon as his own were gone. In short order, both were naked.

“Okay, love, lay back down, and roll over on your side,” Cas instructed. Dean did so.

Cas slid in behind him, and covered both of them, snuggling up behind Dean, and pulling him close, sharing his body heat, and letting Dean feel how much Cas loved and wanted him.

“I’m here, baby. Come on, snuggle up and relax. I’m right here, not going anywhere, you’re all right.”

Dean slowly relaxed back against Cas, still shivering a bit, but warming incrementally over time.

“You won’t leave me?”

“I will never leave you, Dean. I may be away from time to time, but I will always be with you in my heart. You _are_ my heart, Dean.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“Shhh. Hush. No worries, Dean. Relax now, and rest. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

***

Sam didn’t usually cook much, but he knew how to build a sandwich and, if Dean had taught him anything growing up, it was how to make boxed mac’n cheese. He did both, now. He made three boxes of macaroni, knowing that Jack would eat one all by himself, and that he, Dean, and Cas would split the other two. He heated up thin-sliced corned beef, and layered that on seedless rye bread with muenster cheese and a pickle, for Dean. For himself and Cas, he made chicken salad with apples, dried cranberries, and walnuts, and put that on sliced onion rolls, cut in half. For Jack, he made two grilled cheese and ham sandwiches.

Sam dished up the macaroni for Dean and Cas, and put the bowls and the plates with their sandwiches on a tray, and carried it down to their room. He knocked on the door, and waited.

A moment later, Cas opened the door, wearing Dean’s bathrobe. He smiled at Sam.

“He’s sleeping. I think he’s all right, but I want to stay with him. Thank you for making lunch, Sam.” Cas took the tray and set it on Dean’s desk.

“No problem, Cas. Thank you for taking care of Dean.” Sam smiled. “Gabe called. There’s construction, a detour, an accident, and a traffic jam on I-80, and he’s stuck, doesn’t know how long he’ll be. He didn’t want us to worry. If you need him, he’s got his cell phone.

“Also, I spoke to Jack, and let him know that you and Dean needed some quiet time alone together, so he didn’t get concerned that you didn’t come to see him when you arrived, and he told me that he has a message for you.”

“A message for me? From whom?” Cas asked.

“From _Kelly_. He said she visited his dreams, or, maybe, in his dream, he visited her heaven; he wasn’t sure which, or if it was a combination. But she gave him a message for you. He told me, and it makes no sense to me, but he says he assumes that you will understand it.”

“I’ll let him tell me again, but can you remember what it was, Sam?”

“I can’t remember the exact wording, but it’s something about a _light_ ; how it’s important, you’re not imagining it, and it’s the key. Does that make sense to you, Cas?”

“No, but maybe if I hear the exact words from Jack, it will.” Cas shrugged. “Thank you for letting me know, Sam. I will speak with Jack later on.”

“Okay. I’m going to get him to come and eat in the kitchen. You two just rest and do what you need to do, and let me know if you want me to make dinner, or order in, or whatever, and I’ll take care of it.”

“All right, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam gave Cas a gentle hug.

“It’s good to have you home, Cas.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caring Cas is hot! :D  
> Caring Sam is kinda hot, too. ;)
> 
> Comments? :)


	100. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas chat.

Dean woke slowly. He could feel himself layered in blankets and Cas’ warm body and arms. He felt safe, anchored. He could breathe; he could think; the panic was gone.

He wasn’t going to let it claim him again, if he could help it. And he wasn’t trying to head for a shame-spiral, either. But he was, he had to admit it, a little ashamed of himself. He wanted to use that constructively, this time, thinking clearly. He was no longer ashamed of himself because he didn’t think he was good enough. He was ashamed of himself for not believing strongly enough in Cas, in what they had together.

Cas had already told him that he would never be left alone. Cas had said he would _always_ be with Dean, that they would be together in each others’ hearts. He had to believe and trust in that, at his core, or this wouldn’t work, and that would be his fault. He had to remember that, always, had to make it his bedrock belief. Whether or not Dean Winchester believed he was worthy was irrelevant; Cas believed that he _was_ , and that was what mattered.

Cas believed in him. Cas trusted him. Cas loved him. Even when he flipped out, Cas was there for him. So, he had no reason to flip out. He just had to remember that.

He opened his eyes and glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes met Cas’, and Cas smiled softly.

“Welcome back, my heart.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“Feeling better now?”

“Much. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Dean?”

“Because I freaked out.”

“Do you want to talk about why you freaked out?”

“Not really, but I think I _have_ to, first with you, and then with Mia on Tuesday.”

Cas nodded. “Okay. Do you want to start, or do you want me to summarize what I already know, so you don’t have to go back over all of it?”

“No, I think I _do_ have to go back over all of it. I need to prove to myself that I _can_ , that I won’t get sucked back into panic mode just because I made a couple of mistakes.”

“All right. Do you want to eat first? Sam brought lunch a while ago, but you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Ooh. Yeah, I ate breakfast, but that was a while ago, now.”

Cas got up, and helped Dean to sit up against the head board, then brought the tray over to Dean from the desk. “This was all warm when Sam brought it; do you want me to try to reheat it?”

“Nah. Cold is fine.” Dean wolfed down the sandwich in six bites. He ate some of the mac’n cheese, then decided he was full, and ready to talk. Cas moved the tray back to the desk, out of the way, then came back and sat next to Dean.

“Okay. So, I was writing in my journal after breakfast. I figured I had about ten to fifteen minutes available before you would call from Big Springs, and I wanted to be sure to remember to tell Mia about my fuck-up from last night. Funny thing is, what I wanted to remember to tell her was that I _handled_ it, that I caught myself, and apologized, and we went on talking and were _fine_. But instead, I wrote about how _awful_ it was, and how much it _scared_ me, because I could see myself backsliding right after I had _just finished_ writing about how good and safe it was to be in this relationship. And I really realized, for maybe the first time, how often I sniped at you over nothing, how often I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault at all. And I felt terrible.

“When I woke up this morning, Cas, I felt _off_ , and I had to think about why that was, and I realized it was because you weren’t here to wake up with me. Waking up alone just felt _wrong_. And if waking up without you once after a _week_ of doing so felt wrong, after eleven years of refusing to even think about what waking up next to you might be like, what would happen if, say, a year, or two, went by, and _then_ I had a major fuck-up and pushed you away to the point you did leave me? I wouldn’t be able to cope, Cas. I can’t lose you again. I can’t go back to not waking up next to you again. I can’t. And the reason I got so scared that I landed in a panic attack was because I was thinking too much about me, and what I do, and how I react, and not enough about you, and what you do, and how you react.

“I was thinking, ‘well, I’ll do something wrong, and then I’ll feel guilty, and I’ll get pissy, and push, and then I’ll get scared, and I’ll push more, and eventually, Cas’ll leave because _I do something stupid_.’ I wasn’t thinking, ‘except Cas would never let it get that far; Cas knows me just as well as I do, and he’d spot the bullshit, and call me on it, and make me cut it out.’ And I should have been, because you do, _and you would_.

“So just now, when I was waking up, I was thinking that even if I don’t have enough faith in myself, it’s okay, because I _do_ have faith in you, and in _us_. You’ve said you won’t leave, and I believe you. I trust you to stop me from pulling the stupid bullshit that I start when I get scared, Cas.

“I’m not trying to duck my responsibility, here. I know I have to work on getting my shit together. I can’t pull shit like sniping at you because I fucked something up, or because I’m blowing something stupid up out of all proportion, or because something that wasn’t within your control went wrong. I have to own my own mistakes, and not push them off on you. I’m just saying that if I start slipping, if you hear that tone in my voice, if you can see that I’m heading in that direction, Cas – stop me. In fact, y’know what? I’ll give you a code word.

“If I start slipping, just look me in the eye and tell me ‘ _Poughkeepsie_.’ For Sam and I, that’s our ‘drop everything and go’ code word. It means everything’s gone to hell, get out, get out right fucking now. For you and I, it’ll mean that you’re sensing that I’m in over my head, and I need to shut it down and trust you.

“Does any of that make sense, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean, it does make sense. However, I do spot one small snag in your reasoning.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“‘Catching you on your bullshit’, as you put it, _isn’t the real problem_. You called _yourself_ out last night when you started sniping at me. You caught it, you owned it, you apologized for it. You didn’t start to panic until much later, when I wasn’t around. The reason you panicked wasn’t that you had ‘fucked-up’, _it was because I wasn’t here_.” Cas leaned in and rubbed Dean’s shoulder gently.

“Dean, I will _never_ leave you metaphorically; I want this relationship to work. I always have, and I always will. But there will be times when we will have to be apart, physically. I can’t look you in the eye and say ‘Poughkeepsie’ if I’m not here, in the flesh, to say it. I need to be able to trust that you’re not going to spiral out of control simply because I’m not in the room.”

Dean nodded. “I don’t think I said what I was really thinking. I do see what you’re saying. It was your physical absence this morning that bothered me when I woke, but that _wasn’t_ what sent me into a panic. So, give me a minute, and let me try this again.”

“As long as you need, my heart.” Cas smiled softly.

Dean thought again about what he’d been thinking when he woke, and what he’d really wanted to say. “I’m ashamed of panicking, and I’m not ashamed, as in, I don’t think that I’m good enough for you, any more, but because I wasn’t believing strongly enough in you, in us. You said that even when you’re not with me, tangibly, you’re still with me, that I won’t ever be left alone, because you’ll always be with me, because we’ll be together in our hearts. And I’d thought that I’d understood, but when I panicked, it showed that I really didn’t believe it _enough_.

“I have to believe and trust in that, at my core, or this relationship won’t work, and that would be my fault. I have to remember it, _always_ , and make it my new bedrock belief. Whether or not _I_ believe I’m worthy of you, of us, is irrelevant; _you_ believe that I am, and that’s what matters. You believe in me. You trust me. You love me. Even when I flip out, you’re here for me, with me _in my heart_. So, therefore, I have no reason to flip out, and I just have to remember that.

“Maybe I have to write it down, so I can pull it out and look at it if I start to forget. Or, maybe I need a picture of us to carry around with me, like, in my wallet, so if I start, I pull it out, and see us, and remember. Or both. Like a crutch, until I don’t need it any more. Not _you physically_ being here always, but just a _concrete reminder_ of some kind that panic isn’t necessary and doesn’t help. Is that better?”

Cas nodded. “If it helps you, yes.

“Dean, you’ve lived a very long time believing that no one truly cared for you, and that no one ever would, despite all evidence to the contrary. Intellectually, you knew you had people who cared about you – me, Sam, Jody, Claire, etc. – but in your heart, you were still that little boy whose father abandoned him, and told him he was only good for one thing – taking care of _someone else_. Alastair used that, built on that, and a lot of people who loved you have died because this life you live is dangerous, so you continued to see that if you loved someone, they’d leave you. Sam left you for Stanford. Even I left, finally.

“For you, believing that someone will, in fact, always be with you, will _always_ be the single most difficult thing for you. I can tell you a million times that I won’t leave, and you can believe it, _intellectually_ , but _emotionally_ , you don’t quite have the foundation in your psyche to _trust_ it, yet. You may well continue to have panic attacks from time to time. All I can do is assure you that every time you do, you’ll come out of it to find that I’m still here on the other side.

“ _I love you_. I always have, and I always will. I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you, because that would be impossible. As I told you before, I didn’t leave because I _wanted_ to go. I left because you were so angry, and I felt that you were being unfair. I felt I needed to stand up for myself, and I also needed clarity. I didn’t think you wanted me around anymore, and I couldn’t _stand_ to be where I wasn’t wanted. Now I know that you were really more angry with yourself and with the situation than you were with me, but I didn’t know that, then. But then, I also didn’t know then that you were in love with me, and just waiting for me to tell you that I was in love with you, too, to admit it.”

Dean smiled. “Both of us are insecure. Each of us needs the other to feel grounded.”

“That’s true. I just fake it better than you do. I’ve had eons to practice.” Cas grinned.

“C’mon, let’s get you in a nice hot shower, and then some nice warm clothes, and then let’s go for a walk, outside, and get a little fresh air and exercise. We don’t have to go far, but I want you to get outside the Bunker for a little while. You need some perspective.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww. Okay, back to progress. Sometimes, you have to have a setback to push through.
> 
> Comments? :)


	101. Ah, That Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathy and Chuck chat - again. Jack tells Dean and Cas about his dream. Cas tells Dean and Jack about this light he's noticed twice, recently.

Kathy had returned to the cabin to find Chuck sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, eating the last of her Ben & Jerry’s stash, watching a _Dr. Sexy_ rerun marathon.

With his mouth full, Chuck gestured at the television with his spoon. “I see now why Dean likes this show so much. It’s cheesy, but, wow, soooo much drama!”

Kathy rolled her eyes and went into her bedroom to change out of her Ranger uniform and into her workout clothes. She came back out, and went into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator for a bottle of water, but there wasn’t any. Nor was there much of anything else. She looked in the freezer; it was empty. She checked the cupboards; bare. There was one protein bar left, and some spices, and that was it.

_Apparently, God’s been hungry._

She went out in the living room. “Anything in particular you want for food? I’m going to the gym, and then the grocery store.”

“Oh, hey, thanks, that’s really nice of you to ask, but no, I don’t need anything special. Just get whatever. I’m _so_ not picky. Unlike my kids, you should see Gabriel, all he ever eats is sugary stuff, seems like. And Lucifer seems to think brimstone’s a seasoning.

“You know what, I should help out with that, since I’m staying here and basically eating you out of house and home. Here,” Chuck said, as he handed her five $100 bills.

“Is that enough? I don’t really know what groceries cost these days, haven’t been in a store for a long time. If you need more, it’s fine, just, you know, let me know. And hey, I can help out around here, do the dishes and stuff, or whatever. I don’t wanna be a bad guest, really.”

“Thanks, Chuck. Did you come up with something for the negotiations? An offer of something the Winchesters will actually want?”

“Well, no, but… hey, seeing as _I’m God_ , I bet I could wrangle Dean one of those ‘fan days’ on the set of _Dr. Sexy_ , you know, where the fan comes in, and they get to follow their favorite star around all day and watch them get made up, and film, and then they get to be a one-shot cameo ‘guest star’ for a day. I bet he’d like _that_ , what do you think?” Chuck looked up at her, his eyes wide, clearly thinking this was a great idea.

“Chuck. That might be something Dean might like to win if it were a contest, but we’re talking making up for his _entire destiny_ , here. A one-day ‘fan day’ experience doesn’t cut it.”

“Right. It should probably go for an entire _week_ , huh?”

“Chuck. That isn’t what I meant. You spent how long on this universe? Thousands? Millions? Of years, and how much of it planning the Winchesters’ destinies? How much time during their entire lifespans did you spend setting them up for the plan you set in motion fourteen years ago? And how much of the past fourteen years did you spend just _screwing_ with them, over and over and over? **_Dude_**. You _have_ to give them something they need. Desperately. Not something they could win by mailing in a postcard and getting lucky.”

“Heh. Yeah, you’re right. I mean, I even set Gabriel up to fail as Sam’s guardian angel by putting him between Lucifer and Michael and forcing him to run away, and that was _eons_ ago. I’m such a bad Father, Kathy; really, it’s no wonder my kids hate me.”

Kathy almost felt bad for Chuck, seeing how dejected he looked, _sitting on her couch, eating her ice cream_. **_Almost_**.

“Well, you want them to like you again? Gabe and Cas, and whoever else may still be around, right? Then you need to offer _them_ something, too. Chuck, look, you owe a lot of… entities, I guess… apologies, okay? And they have to be serious, meaningful, real, and deep, from-your-soul – _I mean, **grace**_ – apologies. And that type of apology comes with a _gift_. A non-returnable, non-refundable, once-in-a-lifetime, o-my-goodness-how-did-you-know-I-needed-this, _I_ -didn’t-know-I-needed-this, kind of gift. Like, giving Cas grace that never runs down, never needs recharging. That’s why he was here, communing with nature – his grace was running low and his powers were failing. Or, giving Cas and Gabriel _tastebuds_ , so they actually taste food, and not just molecules – _that’s_ why Gabe eats sugar all the time, by the way. Something like _that_. And it has to be something that they can only get from _you_ , not anyone else, not anywhere else, they can’t buy it, or win it, or anything like that.

“Now, I’m going out. You turn off the TV, get your shoes off of my coffee table, throw the empty ice cream carton away, and start thinking of gifts for Sam, Dean, Cas, Gabe, Jack, and whoever _else_ you pissed off, and I want to hear real, solid ideas when I get back.” Kathy smiled softly at him. “ _You can do this_ , Chuck.”

“How do you _know?”_ he asked, in a very small voice.

“Because you’re _God_ , Chuck. I have **_faith_**.” She winked at him and left.

***

Cas and Dean returned from their (short – it was _cold_ out!) walk outside, to find Jack waiting for them in the War Room with hot chocolate – and Kelly’s message for Cas.

“Okay, Jack, I want you to think very carefully, tell me everything that happened in your dream, and everything Kelly said to you, not just her message for me, but _everything_. I want to make sure that I have the full context, okay?” Cas gave Jack a hug, then sat down next to him at the long conference table. Dean sat down as well, interested.

Jack nodded, and closed his eyes, remembering. “It was a very vivid dream. Most dreams are a little fuzzy, or off on details, but this wasn’t like that. I thought I recognized the place, but I couldn’t quite figure out from where. I was walking in a field, with a lot of tall grass, and meadow wildflowers, lots of blues and pinks and dark reds. I felt like I walked in the field a long time. And then it opened up into a yard framed by gardens, more flowers, but tended, in beds and rows, not wild. And there was a dog, and I knew that I knew it, but I couldn’t remember its name right away. I knew it was one of the presidents, though, one with a double ‘o’ in it, so I thought _Hoover_ , but that wasn’t it; _Coolidge_ , but that wasn’t it. And then I remembered, its name was ‘ _Roosevelt_ ’ and he was my _mom’s_ dog. She had him when she was young, and he was killed when she was in high school, and I had seen him before, when I visited her in Heaven. So then I wondered if I had died again, and gone back to Heaven, and that confused me.

“And then I heard her voice behind me, and she said, “ _No, Jack. You’re not dead. You’re just dreaming_.” So I turned around, and mom was there, smiling up at me, and she said, “ _Hello, son_.”

I asked her if it was real, or if I was just dreaming. And she told me she was visiting me in my dreams, and that she had done so before, I just didn’t remember it when I woke up. I asked if I would remember this time, and she said this:

_“_ _Yes. You need to. I have something to tell you. You need to remember to tell Castiel something for me. All right? You need to tell Castiel this: 'The light is important. You’re not imagining it. It’s the key. The light is the key.’ Remember that, Jack.”_

And then I said that I would remember to tell you, and that I had missed her. She said that she had missed me too, and that I should sleep well. And then she said again to “ _Remember –_ ** _‘_** _the light is the key.’_ _”_ And then she smiled, and kissed my forehead, and vanished. And then I was back in the field, walking through the tall grass and flowers again. And then, eventually, the dream ended.

“But when I woke up, I remembered it, so clearly. I almost _never_ remember my dreams, except in tiny fragments. This one, I remembered _everything_ about it, from the breeze in the meadow, to the vibrant colors of the flowers, and the blue sky, and the green grass in the yard, to everything that was said.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Do you understand it, Dad? Do you know what the message _means_?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure. Tell me the message again, just that part?”

“Tell Castiel this: ‘ _The light is important. You’re not imagining it. It’s the key. The light is the key_.’”

Cas steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them, thinking.

“A light, that you thought you had imagined, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded, slowly. “I’ve seen only one such light recently.”

“Where was it? When?” Jack wanted to know.

“I noticed it twice. The first time, it was completely unexpected, just a small flare, and I blinked in surprise. The second time, it was right here, Dean, right after you and Sam decided that my title around here should be ‘chief badass’. Sam said you and he don’t have titles, and I pointed out that you do – your title is “Hunter”. And you said that I was one, too, that I’d earned it a thousand times over, and Sam said you were right, and you smiled at me. And the light surged so brightly, I had to close my eyes.”

“I didn’t notice any light flare, Cas; what are you talking about?” Dean asked, surprised.

Cas nodded. “I know, neither you nor Sam noticed it. But when I opened my eyes again, Dean… you were glowing.

"The light, Dean, is in your soul.”

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Hmm. Hmmmm. Verrrrrry interesting, this light. ;)
> 
> And yeah, in case it wasn't obvious... Chuck is tying with John as NOT father of the year material... ;)
> 
> Comments, please? :)


	102. Sam, That's Not Punny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna leaves for home. Dean, Cas, and Jack talk about the light. Gabe's still stuck in traffic.

Donna walked out to the car with Jody, Alex, and Claire (Amy was still refusing to set foot outside the house, but she was standing in the doorway, waiting to wave a final goodbye). Donna put her bag in the trunk, then hugged Alex, then Claire, and finally Jody.

“Oh, _you guys_. This was so much fun! I had such a good time! It was so good to see all of you!” Donna tried not to sniffle, but it was a losing battle.

“It’s not like we’re dying, Donna. You could literally come up again next weekend if you want to,” Alex told her, grinning. “I’ve gotta get back inside, it’s too cold out here. Drive safe!”

Alex scooted herself back to the house.

Claire walked Donna around to the door of the car. “Why _don’t_ you come back next weekend? Cas said he and Dean might try to be here, to work on reopening the salvage yard. You know they’d love to see you, and we’d love to have you.”

“No, I gotta _work_ next weekend. I have three deputies, but I am the Sheriff, gotta set a good example, you know. Thank you again for your gift, by the way.” Donna told her.

“Oh! Wait! I forgot to give you the _other part!_ I’ll run back in, don’t leave, I’ll be right back!” Claire took off running for the house.

Jody came around the car. “They trying to talk you into coming again next weekend?” She laughed. “You’re certainly welcome!”

“I gotta _work_.”

Jody nodded. “Drive safe, call if you stop and again when you get in. Miss you already.”

“I’ll call. But it’s not _that_ long a drive, _so_. I’ll be back soon.” Donna hugged Jody again.

Claire came running back out with a small box. “Here! I can’t believe I forgot to give you _this_.” She thrust the box into Donna’s hands.

Donna opened it, and found her locket. “Oh, how sweet!”

“Open it,” Jody told her.

She did, and found the photo of the four of them. “Oh, the picture Sam took last summer!”

Claire nodded. “I got a locket for each of us, and we all have the same picture of each other.”

“Oh! Now I _am_ gonna have to have a little cry, here.” Donna teared up, and Claire hugged her again. Donna wiped her eyes and blinked a few times.

“Get on the road, lady, or you’ll never get home.” Jody used a stern voice, but she was smiling at her friend.

“Yeah, I know, I gotta _go_.” Donna sighed, and climbed into the car, and shut the door. Jody and Claire walked back to the house, and Alex and Amy joined them on the porch to wave goodbye as Donna put the car in gear and waved out the window, then drove off.

***

 _“Wait…what? **In my soul? Key to what?**”_ Dean asked, confused.

“Also… Jack, did you ever take a look at Dean’s soul before?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“What _color_ was it?”

“ _Green_ , of course.”

“Take a look at it _now_ , please.”

“At my soul? You guys are _looking_ at my soul?” Dean looked from Cas to Jack and back again.

“Whoa. That’s _weird_ ,” Jack said.

Cas nodded.

“What’s weird about my soul?” Dean wanted to know.

“It _changed color_ , Dean,” Cas told him. “Every human’s soul has a color to it. Yours _used_ to be green, as Jack said. I had seen it, also – when I first pulled you from the Pit, _it **was** a brilliant emerald green_. But _now_ , it’s _white, with tiny flecks of blue_.”

“It’s like grace, only backward, because _grace_ is blue with tiny flakes of white,” Jack explained.

“Most humans have a very small light in their soul, Dean. Having a light in your soul isn’t a bad or abnormal thing. But I’ve never seen the light in a human’s soul flare up like yours did. And the second time it flared is when I noticed that your soul had itself changed color.”

“How can a light in someone’s soul, even if it’s apparently flaring up, be the _key_ to anything?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas said. “Jack, do you think you could find your mother in your dreams again, ask if she can give us any more information? Or, I suppose we could just go back up to Heaven and ask. It should be all powered up by now.”

“Maybe try my dreams _first_ , Dad? Save actually going up for a last resort?” Jack suggested.

“Good thinking.”

***

Gabe had long since turned off the engine and rolled down the windows. Others had done the same; the man in the car to his right was reading a book, some people had gotten out of their vehicles and were standing around talking, and he saw at least one family having a fucking _picnic_.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam again.

“Hey Gabe, where are you?” Sam asked.

“Right where I was last time we spoke, Sam. This is a mess,” Gabe snarled.

“But that was _hours_ ago!”

“Tell me about it. I’m so bored. Tell me a _joke_ or something, Samshine. Entertain me.”

“Um, okay, did you know that every year there’s a race the runs all the way across Sweden? It starts at the Norwegian border, and ends at the _Finnish Line_.”

Gabe groaned. Sam chortled.

“That was terrible, Sammy.”

“Secretly, you love it.”

“No, Sam. I don’t.”

“Okay, here’s one. Did you hear about the doctor who said that he would amputate the patient’s leg _with his bare hands_? The rest of the OR staff were taking bets on whether or not he could _pull it off_.”

Gabe groaned louder. Sam chuckled.

“Or, every morning, I wake up thinking I’ll make pancakes, but then I start _waffling_.”

Gabe snickered. Sam guffawed.

Sam continued laughing, as he gasped out, “Or, or this one: the bakery burned down. Guess that business is _toast_.” Now they were both laughing.

Gabe contributed: “Rick Astley will **_lend_ **you any of his Pixar collection DVDs, but _he's **never gonna give you UP**_.”

“Did you…oh, shit, Gabe, did you just _Rick-Roll_ me in a _pun_?” Sam was doubled over, now.

“I’ll never admit it, Sam,” Gabe told him, snorting.

“I don’t trust _stairs_. They’re always _up to something_ ,” Sam said.

Gabe hooted, then came back with, “I lost my _mood ring_. I don’t know how _I feel_ about it.”

“Oh, stop, my stomach hurts. My stomach hurts, stop, Gabe. Ow.” Sam was still laughing.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Gabe. ;)
> 
> Poor Dean. ;)
> 
> Poor Donna, having to set a good example. Hehehe. ;)
> 
> Comments?? :D


	103. She Thinks I'm Cute?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas and Sam chat. Kathy sneaks out of her own house. Sam calls Shann.

Deciding that there was no time like the present, Jack went to take a nap, to see if he could dream of his mother again.

After he’d left the room, Dean noted, “You know, we’re _assuming_ that was really Kelly, and not just some weird random dream. Is that really a safe assumption, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. Given what I’ve seen, with the flaring, and the change in color of your soul, none of which Jack knew anything about, I think it reasonable to assume that a dream, which seeks to send me, specifically, a message that talks about one of those two very elements as being somehow key to something, is not merely random.”

“Okay.” Dean put his hands up in surrender. “I just wish we knew what it’s supposed to be the key _for_. Are we actually _unlocking_ something? Or is it just somehow important, like a key _ingredient_?”

“Yes, Kelly’s message was a bit vague.”

Sam came through on his way to the kitchen for coffee; once he’d obtained a mug of caffeine-infused goodness, he came back out into the War Room to join them. He was still occasionally hiccoughing with laughter from his pun session with Gabriel. “Hey guys. Gabe’s still stuck in traffic.”

“Where is he now?” Dean asked.

“Right where he was the first time he called. He hasn’t moved, had to turn the truck off. He may not get back tonight. It was a good thing you flew back, Cas,” Sam said. “So, what’s going on?”

“Apparently, I have some weird-ass light in my soul that Cas has seen flaring up a couple of times; it’s the key to _something_ , but we don’t know _what_ ; we learned that from a _dream_ Jack had of his mother, so he’s gone to take a _nap_ to see if he can reach her again to ask her questions about it; oh, and Cas says my soul has _changed color_ , from green, to white with flecks of blue, the opposite of angel grace. I think that covers everything,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“As I told you, Dean, _everyone_ has a light in their soul, it’s not ‘ _weird-ass_.’ It’s unusual for it to _flare_. And yes, I have seen it.” Cas smiled at Sam. “Sorry about Gabe.”

“Nah, that’s okay. Dean needed you,” Sam told him.

“So, how’s that guy you hired working out? What’s his name, again?” Dean asked.

“Shann. He’s doing well. Got three months’ worth of filing done in his first day. And we told him about Gabriel, and he didn’t pass out. So, good first day, all in all,” Sam grinned.

“Was that wise, Sam? To tell him who Gabriel really is?” Cas queried.

“Necessary. For one thing, he’d seen Gabriel materialize, and it hadn’t phased him. But then he was asking questions about Gabe’s qualifications because of something he’d seen while filing. So, Gabe answered him. And Shann recognized that one of the schools that Gabe attended had been closed down in 1898, making Gabe over 120 years old. Which, of course, he is.”

“Oops.” Dean smirked.

“I think it’s fine. As long as he shows up to work tomorrow. Lots to do.” Sam stood. “Speaking of, gonna go do some of it.”

“Do you require assistance, Sam?” Cas asked. “I feel guilty of having deprived you of Gabe’s help today, and possibly tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Cas, but no. Gabe’s working on the next translation I need, but I won’t need it for a few days, at least. There’s plenty of time. But I appreciate the offer.” Sam smiled.

***

Kathy awakened with a headache. Its name was Chuck.

She’d tiptoed out of her bedroom that morning to find he was still right where he’d been when she’d returned from the store and gym the evening before: asleep on her couch, taking up an amazing amount of space for such a short, slight man, and snoring. Loudly. So loudly, in fact, she’d put her earbuds in before sleeping, and still had them in now, twenty minutes and two cups of coffee since waking up.

She hadn’t wakened him last night because she really didn’t want to have, again, the same damned conversation that they seemed to keep having over and over. She was trying not to wake him now, for the same reason. It felt odd, having to yell at and badger… **_God_**.

Who knew the Almighty was so … _lazy_? Was that the word she wanted? Or was it… _unoriginal_? Or maybe… _stubborn_? Or… **_cute_**? No, _that_ certainly wasn’t it. Definitely **_not_ **cute.

But they needed to have the conversation, with a different result, soon, or she’d never get him off her damn couch. She just couldn’t quite face it, yet.

She figured she had two choices at the moment: 

  * Cook breakfast, make an inordinate amount of noise doing it so he had to wake up, and force the conversation over bacon and eggs; or,
  * Sneak out of her own damned house, find a diner, have breakfast in peace, go to work, and force the conversation over the fried chicken she was planning for dinner.



Fuck it, she was going with option two. She found her keys, and snuck out, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as she started her truck.

She never noticed that Chuck was only snoring to make his pretense of still being asleep realistic. As soon as the truck’s engine started up, Chuck opened his eyes, and sat up.

_She thinks I’m **cute**?_

***

Shann was sprawled out on his couch, television tuned to a football game, bag of chips and bowl of dip sitting out on the table in front of him. But his mind was somewhere else entirely.

His mind was in the _library_. Seeing Gabriel _materialize_ out of nothing but a piece of paper floating in mid-air. Seeing Gabriel _with wings_ that spanned nearly the entire width of the room; even if all he’d been able to see was their shadow, he knew they’d been real. Sam’s joke about Gabriel “tooting his own _horn_.” Gabriel’s rejoinder that Sam might have to “save the world _again_.” _**Again?** Had it been saved **before?**_ Sam introducing Gabriel as, in fact, _the Archangel_ from the Bible. The _chart_ of the Heavenly choirs. That revoked _contract_ , signed by someone claiming to be _The King of Hell_. The translation of a contradictory creation myth to current English – complete with current idioms – _from a language so dead_ that a translation shouldn’t have been possible. The _invisible building_ , which Sam had so cheerfully marked up to being invisible _due to a spell_. Gabriel asking why he wasn’t more shocked or put off by the weirdness, implying that there was _more_ weirdness lying around, and that if he just looked hard enough, maybe he’d start to notice it.

 _Why hadn’t he been more shocked?_ Yes, he’d certainly had worse jobs, and yes, he’d certainly be going back in tomorrow – he needed the money, and this was the best paying temp job, with the best hours and friendliest co-workers he’d ever had, or heard of – but right now, yeah, sue him, _Shann Murray was freaking right the fuck out._

_Breathe, Shann. Deep, slow breaths. Get a grip, man._

His phone rang. He answered it without looking at Caller ID.

“Shann? Hey, it’s Sam Winchester.”

“Oh. Um. Hi.”

_Smooth, Shann. Very smooth._

“I just wanted to call and make sure that you were okay. We kinda dumped a lot of … _knowledge_ … on you right off the bat, and it wasn’t really fair to you. So, are you?” Sam asked.

“Am I… okay? Um. Yeah. I’m… fine. Um. Sure. I guess. I mean, I appreciate you calling, Sam.”

“Shann? It’s okay to freak out.”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a little of that, today, uh huh.”

“Don’t blame you. Um, kinda need to know, though…. You are coming _back_ , right?” Sam inquired.

“Tomorrow? Yeah. I’m not freaking out enough to give up the best paying job with the best hours and friendliest co-workers that I’ve ever had, Sam. But I do think we should maybe sit down and have a chat about any additional oddities, beyond those I’ve already seen, that I can expect to have pop up, so maybe I don’t have a _heart attack_. Would that be all right?” Shann tried to sound as respectful as possible, but really, he thought, having an Archangel as a co-worker should give him a little leeway.

Sam snorted a half-laugh. “Yeah, Shann, we can do that. And I’m glad you’re only freaking out about, what would you say? _Eighty percent?_ Sound about right?”

Shann grinned. “Yeah, give or take about two percent.”

“Good. Oh, by the way, Gabe may be out part or all of the day tomorrow,” Sam told him.

“Oh? Is he okay?” Shann wanted to know what would cause an Archangel to be so sick he’d have to take a sick day.

“He’s fine. He’s stuck in traffic.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say he’s… _stuck in traffic?_ Do I even want to know? Shann asked, hesitantly.

_Oh, this is just absurd. When did I start living a Monty Python sketch?_

Sam barked out a laugh. “Yes, yes, I did say that. Here’s the scoop. Cas went to Wyoming a while back, and when he returned, he left his truck and some of his stuff there, in a cabin he’d rented. On Saturday morning, he flew up to break his lease and get his truck and stuff. He started to drive back, and he got as far as Big Springs, Nebraska, but then Dean had a panic attack this morning, and he had to abandon his truck and stuff to come back sooner, for Dean. So, Gabe went to get the truck instead, but on his way back, I-80 had construction, which meant there was a detour, and as people were pulling over to the right for the detour exit, someone had an accident, and there was a traffic jam, and Gabe’s been sitting in the same place, with the truck’s engine off, for about four hours now. He said someone was even having a picnic.”

Shann was silent for a second. “Should I ask how Cas _abandoning his truck and stuff to get back to Dean more quickly_ makes any sense?”

“Oh, right. I forgot you didn’t know. Cas is an angel, too. A Seraph, actually, currently in command of Heaven. So, he abandoned the truck at the TravelPlaza, and flew back here.”

"Wait. Didn't you tell me that Cas was Dean's boyfriend? Your brother is dating a Seraph who's currently in command of Heaven? Why isn't an Archangel in command of Heaven? and by 'he flew back,' I’m gonna assume you don’t mean that he took a plane.”

“That was, what, _four?_ questions. _Yes_ , Cas and Dean are dating, and that means that _yes_ , Dean is dating a Seraph who's currently in command of Heaven. Gabe, the only currently living Archangel, isn't in command of Heaven because he's technically dead, and was only brought back _because_ he's loyal to Cas. As for a plane, don't be ridiculous. Of course not. He used his _wings_.” Sam somehow managed to say all of that with a straight face, because, of course, it was all true; but he knew exactly what it sounded like to Shann right now.

Shann rubbed his eyes. “Right. _Wings_. Of course. Why would he take a plane, when he has _wings_?

"Sam, I’ll see you tomorrow. I think I need to get some sleep right now.”

“Migraine?” Sam asked, sympathetically.

“ _Yeah_.”

“Yeah. I get those, too. If it hasn’t gone away by morning, Cas can fix it for you,” Sam told him.

“Sam, _Cas is the **reason** for it_.”

“Yeah. But he can still _fix_ it. He’s handy to have around.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go now.”

“Night. See you tomorrow.” Sam hung up.

Shann stared at his phone for a few moments.

_What just happened?_

He went to go find his migraine meds. This was gonna be a doozy.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Shann. He's gonna need to refill that prescription soon. ;)
> 
> Poor Kathy. You'll notice that Chuck only got one of four adjectives she used about him... LOL
> 
> Poor Dean. He just doesn't know what to think about that light. ;)
> 
> Comments, please, my loves?? :D


	104. Happy Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas takes a nap while Dean journals and writes more letters.

Cas wanted a nap, now; he’d stayed awake while Dean had napped before, to monitor him, and now that Dean was more stable, he was wanting to replenish some of the grace he’d had to expend to fly back from Nebraska.

Dean wanted to write in his journal, and thought it might be a good idea to say close to Cas while he did so, just in case.

So, they went back to their room, and Cas slipped into bed, while Dean seated himself at his desk. Cas watched while Dean got out his notebook and pen, but his eyes drifted closed when Dean uncapped the pen and started to write.

***

**_Sunday, late afternoon_ **

_I had a full-blown panic attack this morning, and Cas had to abandon his stuff in Nebraska to fly back to take care of me. Gabe went to get the truck, and got stuck in a huge mess of a traffic jam, so he’s not here, and Sam is sure taking Gabe’s absence better than I took Cas’. Not really fair to compare the two, but I’m just so pissed at myself. But I’m **not** going to go into another shame-spiral._

_Cas is here, asleep in my bed (he’s worn out, poor guy). He took care of me during and after the panic attack. I’m going to take care of **him** , now. First comes letting him sleep. Then snuggles, because my angel is a snuggly guy. Then dinner. Then we’ll see. For now, he’s here, and I can breathe, and that’s enough._

_So, while he’s sleeping – more letters to write._

_***_

_Dear Donatello,_

_I’m so sorry. I was the one who had to tell you that you were a Prophet after you got hit by lightning; I was ultimately responsible for Amara being freed, and she was the one who took your soul, trying to find me; I was the one who asked you to try to read the demon tablet; I pushed Cas so hard that he left you brain dead accidentally (he still feels awful about that, by the way); I was the one who took you off life support as a test (you held on without it); I was the one who brought soulless Jack to see you; I sent Cas to get you when we thought the demon tablet might have a way to kill God; and I was the one who asked you to watch for power surges indicative of Michael using his powers. I gave you your first beer. So yeah, I guess I kinda wrecked your life._

_You’re a good guy, Don. You deserved better. I just don’t think there’s anyway that I could have done any of that any differently. I had, and have, no malice toward you. I like you. You got hurt because of forces in the universe bigger than either or both of us. So, I’m not saying I’m sorry because I’m to **blame** , exactly; more like I feel for you. I empathize with you. I feel your pain, Don._

_You’ve always done your best to try to help me, and Sam and Cas, always been there when he needed you or asked you to help. So, thanks, Don._

_You’re a good guy._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Rufus,_

_Thank you for helping Bobby with Karen; if he’d been alone, he might have broken. If he’d broken, he might not have been there when Sam and I needed him. But you helped, so he wasn’t alone, he didn’t break, and he was always there for us._

_You helped me with information on Bela Talbot; that was the first time you and I met. Bobby sent me to see you, told me to take you a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. I should’ve taken you the Gold, man._

_You helped us with figuring out how many seals were being broken, and which ones. Not that we were really keeping up, but it helped._

_You gave Bobby the information on Gavin MacLeod needed to make it possible to deal with Crowley._

_You helped us, man, time and again. You were a testy old son of a bitch, but you were a good man, and a good hunter._

_I miss you, Rufus._

_Wish you were here._

_Always,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Bela,_

_There was a lot of shit that went down between us. Ultimately, we both met the same untimely end; I was just important enough to Heaven that I was given a ticket out of the Pit. You weren’t. I’m sorry about that._

_If I’d known back then, when you were moving in our orbit and stealing from us, what I learned in Hell about why you made your deal, I would’ve tried to help you before the hellhounds got you, I swear. I’m sorry that I didn’t know that your father abused you. I’m sorry I made that crack about how your parents must not have hugged you enough. I was a horrible arrogant bastard to you, Bels, and I’m sorry for it. You didn’t deserve it. But remember, I didn’t know that, then._

_**Then** , I just thought you were one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. You had class, polish. And that accent, sweetheart, ooh. If you had ever once tried to be nice, we could’ve had ourselves a time, Bels. I know now why you never tried to be nice. So I’m sorry for that, too._

_I miss your wit. I miss your laugh. I wish you weren’t dead._

_Goodbye, Bela._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Amelia:_

_You didn’t know me well; I believe we met just twice. First, when Jimmy came back to you (after Castiel was thrown out of his body in battle) and Sam and I had to save you and Claire; you might not remember much of that fight, as you were possessed by a demon during most of it. Then Castiel returned to Jimmy’s body, when Jimmy begged him to take him, instead of Claire. Then second, we met in Tulsa, just before you died, when we rescued you from the Grigori that had been feeding on you; Jimmy was already gone by then, but Cas kept getting resurrected in his body; he’s taken it as his own forever, now._

_I’m sorry that Cas needed Jimmy to be his vessel, and I’m sorry that you were hurt as a result. Cas originally needed Jimmy in order to communicate with me after he rescued me from Hell, and then he just kept using his body, kind of from habit. He meant no harm to come to Jimmy, you, or Claire; you have to know that. Cas is loyal to a fault._

_I’m in love with Cas now, Amelia. We’re finally together, and happy. So, thank you to you and to Jimmy, who gave up so much, so that Cas and I could eventually be together. I’m sorry you had pain from it, but at least we know that you and Jimmy are together and happy in Heaven, now._

_Please know that Claire is safe, happy, and wonderful. Cas has tried to be a surrogate father to her. I’ve tried to be a big brother; I haven’t always been successful, but I love her, and won’t make the same mistakes again. We’ve kept her safe, along with Jody Mills, her foster mother. She has a family, Amelia. She’s loved._

_I’m sorry. I wish I had better words for that; you deserve them._

_Thank you._

_Always,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I only met you just twice when Castiel wasn’t in you, and you were yourself. First, when Cas was thrown out of you during a battle, and Sam and I tried to keep you under wraps, but you snuck out and returned to Amelia and Claire, even though we told you it was dangerous for them. I don’t blame you a bit, man; they were your family, and you’d been away a long time, and to be fair, Cas had been riding your body pretty hard for a while there. I know that he was in control, but that he let you be as aware as you wished to be. Just so you know, I’ve been possessed by an angel, and that isn’t typical of them; you were lucky to have Cas, despite what you might think._

_Second, when the demons attacked Claire, one possessing Amelia, and Sam, Cas, and I had to save all three of you. You were going to die, but you knew Cas could heal you, so you begged him to take you back as his vessel, rather than letting you die and go on to Heaven, with him keeping Claire. You wanted her to live her life._

_I want to tell you that she has._

_She has family, and love, and she’s so grown up and strong. She’s wonderful, Jimmy; you and Amelia would be so proud. Cas has tried to be like a father to her, without trying to usurp your place. For a long time, she didn’t want to let him in – she looked at him, and all she could see was ‘not-dad’. But eventually, she learned to appreciate Cas._

_I am in love with Cas, and he with me, and we are finally together. So, I want to thank you, Jimmy, because without you to give Cas a human voice, I would never have been able to understand him when he tried to communicate with me, and we wouldn’t be together now. I owe you, man. So, so much._

_Thank you._

_Always,_

_Dean_

***

Dean re-capped his pen, and put it and his notebook away. He smiled softly as he slipped into bed behind his angel, wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist, and gently snuggling up. He closed his eyes, not intending to sleep, but just to drift for a bit. He knew Cas would want to snuggle when he woke, and he was just anticipating his partner’s needs. If it got him some snuggling too, well, that was just a happy accident.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do think Dean should apologize to and thank Amelia and Jimmy, don't you? ;)
> 
> Who else should Dean write to? One more day in the story until the next session with Mia!
> 
> Comments? :)


	105. Telling the Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck gets busy. Cas and Dean get snuggly. Shann gets in to the Bunker, and he and Sam have a long version of "the talk." Oh, and Gabe shows up at the end. ;)

Chuck got up off the couch and went into the kitchen. He intended to clean Kathy’s house from top to bottom while she was at work today. Not that it needed a lot done to it; Kathy was a good housekeeper. But he felt badly, he knew he’d been a poor houseguest, and he wanted to make it up to her.

He didn’t blame her a bit for having snuck out that morning. Dealing with him was dealing with a lot; he was aware. His sister had said he needed to grow up, and he thought she might have a point. Time to stop treating his creations like the toys he’d meant them to be; they were so far beyond that, now. And he was a few billion years old; he really shouldn’t need toys to keep himself entertained.

_She thinks I’m **cute**. _

He kept circling back to that stray thought he’d overheard in Kathy’s head. He hadn’t intentionally been listening, but Kathy had been freaking out, just a little, and she’d been thinking rather loudly.

_She also thinks I’m **lazy** , **unoriginal** , and **stubborn**. Well, lazy and stubborn, that she got **right**. But unoriginal? Would she even exist, if **that** were true?_

He didn’t mind the criticism. He knew his own flaws. Despite what the Sunday school propaganda taught, he knew he was far from perfect.

_I created man in my own image; if I were perfect, they would be, too._

He needed to get down to business. Kathy was right. He owed the Winchesters a lot, and he did need to come up with something suitable for them. And yeah, he needed to reward Cas, too. He wished he could reward Gabriel. Gabe might not believe it, but his father mourned him.

And Jack. He wished he hadn’t killed Jack. His only grandson in hundreds of years, and Lucifer’s only child. He knew he ought not to have played favorites, but oh, Lucifer just had such a _light_ in him, more than any of his other children, Lucifer had had that essential spark, flaring within him. What Lucifer could have been… if only.

_If only **I** hadn’t fucked him over. I have to admit it. Lucifer’s fall was my own damned fault. I should have seen. I should have known. All **powerful**? Yes. All **knowing**? Hell, no._

He had made a lot of mistakes, and had a lot of people from whom he really ought to beg forgiveness. He’d better start with the Winchesters.

So, what did Sam and Dean need, that they could only get from him? He couldn’t go back and undo the past. But he could make sure that they had pleasant futures that they would enjoy.

Maybe that was it. He could give them sample chapters from his upcoming new work – _The Winchesters Retire To Happiness_.

And then maybe he could work on Kathy thinking more about him being **_cute_** , and less about him being _lazy and stubborn_.

Chuck grinned, and got to work. He had a lot to do today.

***

Dean woke up, and realized, from the clock on his nightstand, that it was morning; he and Cas had managed to fall asleep and stay that way.

_Aw, man. I meant to make dinner for him. Well, he’d just have been tasting molecules anyway. No big loss._

He shifted slightly, meaning to just take a little weight off of his hip, and Cas started squirming, in the way that meant he was starting to wake up, and was checking to see if there was something better than a blanket with which to snuggle. Dean smiled softly, a little amused by how quickly he’d grown fond of Cas’ morning tendency to root for snuggles.

He obligingly wrapped an arm more tightly around Cas, and shifted so his leg lay atop Cas’ leg, hemming Cas in just a little. And, as Dean had known he would, Cas immediately snuggled back against Dean’s body, and then stilled. He opened one eye.

“Coffee?” he asked, wonderingly.

“I haven’t been up or out to the kitchen yet. I can go get some, if you want,” Dean offered.

“No. I’ll wait. This is too nice for either of us to move, yet.”

“I agree, Angel.”

***

Shann pulled into the parking space, and cut the engine. He couldn’t see the building, but he could see the damned door. He shook his head.

 _So weird_.

He got out of his car, and walked to the door. He touched what should have been the empty air next to it, and felt the wall – and then he could see it. Only a few inches in any direction from his hand, but it was there, solid and real. He tried to turn the doorknob, and found it locked.

_Well, of course the door is locked. Duh. People live here. There’s a fabulous collection of priceless documents and books in the library, here. And who knows what else. Of course, they lock the door._

Shann knocked, loudly.

A moment later, he heard, faintly, “Coming!” and knew that Sam had heard his knock.

The door opened, and there was Sam. “C’mon in, Shann.”

“So, should I just knock every morning?” he asked.

“Nah, just call from your cell phone.” Sam gave him a sideways glance, and then hooted a laugh at the look on Shann’s face. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ll get you a key, man, no worries. Come get some coffee, I just made a fresh pot.”

They went down the iron steps and turned into the kitchen. As promised, a fresh pot of coffee was on the counter. Sam went to the refrigerator and got out the flavored creamer he liked. “Shann? Creamer?”

“What flavor is that? Hazelnut?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, please.”

Sam showed him where the mugs were as he got down one for each of them. They poured and doctored and sipped.

“So, Sam, about that talk….”

“Yeah. How about we go in the library, and get comfortable?” Sam suggested.

Shann nodded, and followed the taller man out of the kitchen.

“So, I take it you and Dean have been around… _this kind of stuff_ for a while.”

“Our whole lives, practically. Our mother was killed by a demon when Dean was four years old; I was six months. Our dad, he couldn’t let it go. He wanted revenge. Initially, we didn’t know what had killed her, so he just started researching and hunting supernatural creatures in general. He kinda dragged us around the country with him; we lived out of motel rooms and the car. He’d set us up in a motel room, and leave for days or weeks, with only Dean in charge. It was only much later on that I realized how hard he’d been on Dean.”

“Wow, man, that’s rough.” Shann shook his head, and took another sip.

“Oh, that’s not the _half_ of it,” Sam said. Sam took him through the whole sordid tale that had been their lives, thus far.

“So, Chuck killed Jack, just _right there_ in front of all three of you? What a _dick_!” Shann exclaimed.

“Yeah, well. I shot him.” Sam grinned.

“You shot _God_?” Shann’s jaw dropped for about the eightieth time in the conversation.

“Yup. Remember the gun he’d given Dean, intending for Dean to use it on Jack? Well, whatever it does to the entity that gets shot, it also does to the shooter; Chuck intended for Dean to die killing Jack. But Dean refused to do it, and tossed the gun aside. I picked it up. I shot Chuck in the shoulder. See?” Sam showed Shann the wound on his shoulder.

“Ouch, man! That looks… like it hasn’t healed _at all_. Has anyone with an actual medical degree looked at this?” Shann peered at the wound, concerned.

“No. Cas makes sure it’s not infected, but even he can’t heal it completely. It doesn’t hurt, most of the time.” Sam shrugged his shirt back up.

“So what’d Chuck do then?”

“He got pissy, and opened every door in Hell with a giant rift in the cemetery. And when I say every door, I mean _every_ door.”

“Including the Cage?”

“Yup.”

“So Michael – our world’s Michael – is out walking around now?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Okay. Do I want to know?” Shann asked.

“Probably not.” Sam laughed.

They heard the front door opening and someone stomping down the iron stairs into the War Room.

“ _Sam_?” Gabe called. “Honey, I’m home.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck's being all domestic. hehe
> 
> More Decaf Cas, being all snuggly. ;)
> 
> Shann really is just a guy. Like I kept telling y'all. LOL
> 
> Comments???


	106. The Fall of the Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas considers going "upstairs." Donna goes to the bank. Kathy comes home to find a clean house and Chuck cooking. Cas asks Gabe what he remembers of Lucifer before the fall.

Cas was considering going "upstairs" briefly; he could talk to Kelly, check in on Bobby, Rufus, John, and Mary, Jimmy and Amelia; he could consult with Hannah, Inias, and Balthazar. And he could review the records.

Because if what Amara had told him, right before she’d vanished, was accurate – _and it comported with his memory_ – then there might not be a need to do battle with Chuck at all. And if he was right, they could…. Well. Best not to focus on _that_ , yet.

He couldn’t trust his memory, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust Amara, either. But he was sure he could trust the records in Heaven.

_The scribes would never have gotten something **this** important wrong._

But going upstairs meant leaving Dean. Temporarily, sure, but it had only been temporary when he’d gone to Wyoming, too, and look how that had turned out.

Cas sighed. He wasn’t being very fair to Dean. He’d recovered quickly, and turned around and started taking care of Cas. But maybe he could put off going topside until Dean was having his session with Mia, tomorrow. Then, even if he wasn’t with Dean, Dean would be in the capable hands of a medical professional who could care for him in an emergency until he could get back.

Better not even mention it to Dean yet, then, or he’d want to know why Cas hadn’t gone _already_. Plus, he didn’t want to raise Dean’s hopes falsely, if it turned out to be nothing.

So far, Jack had not been able to recreate the dreamscape of his mother’s heaven, nor otherwise reach Kelly, simply by falling asleep. Cas wondered briefly if he’d get a straight answer from Lucifer. No, probably not. Not one he could trust.

_Well…wait. Maybe not by asking Lucifer **verbally**. But maybe by touch-reading him…? Hmm. _

He wondered if Gabriel still remembered back that far with any kind of clarity. He supposed he could ask him, if he was back yet.

Cas tilted his head, and listened.

_Oh, he **is** back, talking with Sam and Shann. Time to talk to Gabe, first, then…. **After** coffee._

Priorities were important.

***

Donna got up early. She wanted to put some work in, and then take an early, long break to go to the bank. She had a deposit to make, and a few debts to pay off.

_Thank you, Claire._

***

Chuck had cleaned the house, top to bottom; it hadn’t taken long, as it was already neat and tidy. Kathy had bought a pot roast kit, and that was now bubbling away in the crock pot on the kitchen counter. He’d pulled his old laptop out of his knapsack and set it up on the kitchen table.

He’d been merrily writing away for about an hour when he heard her truck pull up. He saved his work, and shut the laptop. He put it back in his knapsack, and went to check the pot roast. He opened the crock pot and let the steam fill the kitchen with the smell of stew. He heard the front door open, and turned to see Kathy coming in, over the kitchen island.

“Hi. I cooked up the pot roast you got at the store. It should be done in about a half-hour.”

“Hi. Did you… _clean_?” Kathy asked.

“Yeah. I mean, it didn’t take long, since you take such good care of your house, but I wanted to be a good guest, and I know that I was kind of slacking there. Why don’t you go and get changed, maybe take a shower, whatever, and, um, yeah, I’ll, um, just be… in here… makin’ pot roast.”

“Okay… thank you. You didn’t have to clean, Chuck,” Kathy told him.

“Oh, it was no problem, really, no problem at all, wanted to do it, thought I should, y’know, be helpful. So, yeah, um. Yeah.”

Kathy nodded, nonplussed. She went down the hall to her bedroom to get changed.

***

“So then, Kali decides that she wants me, and who am I to say no to a goddess, right? So, we had a thing. Chick was all hands. And that was kind of amazing, actually,” Gabe told Sam and Shann.

Cas stepped into the library. “Gabriel? I’m sorry to interrupt your story, but I need to speak with you, please.”

“Sure, bro, be right there,” Gabe said. “See you gents shortly.” He rose and walked out with Cas.

Sam looked at Shann. “So, how’s that migraine?”

“Full blown.”

“Seriously, Cas can fix it. Technically, Gabe could, too. Either one of them would be happy to help, Shann.”

“Yeah. It’s just… the whole concept of ‘healed by an angel’ is just….”

“Yeah, I get it.” Sam grinned. “But it really does work.”

***

Cas and Gabe went down the hall to a small office that was rarely used, but which had been soundproofed. Cas led Gabe inside, and offered him a seat.

“What’s up, Cassie?” Gabe asked.

“First of all, Gabe, thank you for fetching the truck for me. It was a very large favor, made worse by the traffic jam situation you had to endure.”

“No problem-o, that’s what brothers are for. Seriously, Dean needed _you_ , Cas. I could diagnose the problem, but I couldn’t fix it. You needed to be here, I didn’t. So, no worries.” Gabe smiled.

“Well, thank you. Second, I need to know what you remember of Lucifer… before the fall.”

“Wow, I did not see that one coming. Luci, before the fall? That’s going back… millennia, literally. What do I remember?” Gabe looked around, then sighed. “Luci was Dad’s favorite. He… _shone_. He was sweet, and he played with me. He taught me how to fly. He was good. He was _so, so good_. And then….”

“And then? Gabe, I apologize, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

Gabe nodded. “And then Auntie Amara started breaking stuff, and Dad got pissed at her. So he, and the four of us – Michael, Raphael, Lucifer, and I – we locked her away, and the key to her… well, cell, although it wasn’t really a cell, _per se_ … was a birthmark she’d had on her shoulder, which Dad ripped from her as he shoved her in. And then he turned and he pressed her skin against Luci’s, and Luci’s skin took the mark from her’s. And Luci became the guardian of the key.

“At first, it seemed fine. But Lucifer started to change. It was subtle at first. He’d always teased everyone, but it had always been light and funny and made even the one being teased laugh. Now, it got darker, meaner. _Bullying_. The light inside him dimmed, and finally just went out altogether. He went from being Dad’s favorite to being defiant and sometimes outright nasty to Dad. Dad took it, for a long time, Cas, but eventually, even he could see that it was a problem, and he had to deal with it. So, he told Lucifer that if he was going to rebel, maybe he should rule his own little kingdom, and he sent Luci down to be in charge of Hell. Got him out of the house, stopped the squabbling. But then Dad made the Garden, and Adam and Eve. Eve was intended for Adam, but Lucifer seduced her. Dad put a stop to that.

“So, first, Luci seduced Lilith, and turned her into a demon. And then he started to make creations of his own. Demons, beings more powerful than humans. The four Princes of Hell – Dagon, Asmodeus, Azazel, and Ramiel – were never human, they were Lucifer’s own created beings.

“Then, Luci set out to seduce Abel, Eve’s second son. Lucifer wanted a _pet_. Cain loved his brother, and didn’t want to see him corrupted by Lucifer, so he offered Luci a deal – Abel’s soul in heaven for Cain’s soul in hell. Luci accepted, on the condition that Cain had to be the one to send Abel to heaven. Cain killed Abel, and condemned himself to hell with the murder. And Lucifer made Cain a Knight of Hell, and ordered Cain to make more. As humans began to die – and Dad created a lot more of them than the Bible would have you believe; where do people think the wives of the men in the Bible came from? – some were, of course, condemned to hell. Cain created the knights from those first humans, converting them to demons and training them to be killing machines. For centuries, the knights did horrible things – bringers of chaos and darkness. And the more they corrupted, the more humans were condemned to hell.

“Dad didn’t like that his humans were so easily corrupted. He saw that Lucifer had become a cancer on his creation. So, he locked Luci away, in the Cage. And then he brought the Flood, but it was too late; mankind was corrupted, flawed, by its exposure to the Mark of Cain – the proper name for which, really, is the Mark of Darkness. It was Auntie Amara’s first. Cain just wore it the longest.

“And so, there Lucifer sat, until Sam and Dean came along. And you know the rest, Cassie – you lived it.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Lights, lights, lights... ;)
> 
> Comments?? :D


	107. Lucifer's Story, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam lets Cas back into his memory palace so Cas can interview Lucifer. Lucifer tells the story from his newly uncorrupt perspective, perhaps for the first time ever.

Cas thanked Gabe, and asked him to send Sam down to see him. Gabe wondered a bit what that was about, but didn’t argue.

A few moments later, Sam appeared in the doorway. Cas waved him into the room, and into a chair.

“Hello, Sam. I need to speak with _Lucifer_ , which means that, if you don’t mind, I need to enter your memory palace. Now, that _can_ be done with you awake, but you might see or hear things that could disturb you; so I would suggest, if you’re amenable, that I knock you out for a bit. May I?” Cas asked.

Sam nodded. “Sure, Cas. I trust you.”

“Thank you, Sam. I assure you that I am aware of what it means that you trust me, when you have little reason to trust any angel, after what my kind has done to you. I take it very seriously.” Cas peered at Sam, head tilted slightly to the right.

“Cas, if I blamed you for what Lucifer, Michael, Gadreel, or Metatron did to me, or to Dean, I’d have to blame Gabe, too. It’s just not possible for me to stereotype all angels on the basis of what a few of them have done. I know you, I know Gabe. You’re _good_. You’re _trustworthy_ ,” Sam said. “ _And_ my brother sleeps with you, which could get all kinds of unpleasant for you, if you hurt me.” Sam grinned. “Just kidding. Mostly.”

Cas laughed. “Thank you, Sam. Now, this won’t hurt….” Cas touched two fingers to Sam’s forehead, and Sam slumped in his chair, his head lolling. Cas sighed, and touched Sam’s forehead again, and found himself back in that long hallway.

He flew to where he now knew the area with the Cage was located, and looked around. And once again, Lucifer snuck up behind him.

“Hey, Cassie. How’s it goin’, bro?”

“Hello, Lucifer. I need to speak with you. And possibly with Michael, though he likely won’t be capable of providing assistance.”

“Yeah, Michael’s not really here right now. Or _ever_. So, what’s up?”

“Sam told us of your conversation with him.”

“As I expected he would.” Lucifer nodded. “I meant every word, Cassie; I want to help.”

Cas nodded in response. “I need you to tell me what you can remember about yourself, prior to our father putting you in the Cage. And I need to confirm what you say with a touch-reading.”

Lucifer bit his lip, considering. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and rocked up and down on his heels for a few moments. “All right. Why not? I have plenty of time.”

Castiel conjured two comfortable chairs.

“Whoa, your grace is regenerating nicely, Cassie.”

“Have a seat, Lucifer.”

“All right, all right.” Lucifer seated himself. “So, what do I remember about myself from before the Cage… Let me ask you, Cas, do you remember back that far?”

“Vaguely. Some things are clearer than others. I’m not as old as you, so I can’t possibly remember everything that you might.”

“True. Of all of us siblings, only Michael, older than me by about ten minutes, could remember more, or as much, as I. Well, let’s see. I remember Father, and Michael, helping me to stand. Father walked around me, and Michael helped me to shake out the feathers in my wings. Father smiled, and kissed my forehead, and took me in his arms and held me. He’d created us fully grown, but we knew next to nothing. So Michael and I skipped off to play and learn by absorbing concepts straight from the chaos. And soon enough, Raphael and Gabriel joined us. And every day, Father would call us four to join him, to tell him what we’d learned that day. We would all chatter excitedly about our discoveries. Father would listen, and smile, and give us all of his attention. We ate it up like candy.

“But then Dad started to get distracted. He was continuing to create – other planets, other creatures, and eventually, humans – and he had less time for _us_. And there were more _angels_ needing his attention, as well; it wasn’t just the four of us any more. And, of course, by that point, we’d matured, we were able to handle being given responsibilities. So, Dad decided it would be more efficient if he grouped the angels into the choirs, and put certain angels, especially the four of us, in positions of leadership, so he could delegate.

“So, originally, there were five choirs, and I had responsibility for two of them. I was Dad’s favorite. I was responsible, caring, nurturing of the younger beings. I liked playing with them. I got along with them, and they got along with me. Father leaned on me, a little, and it made me proud, at first.

“Then Auntie Amara started to break Dad’s toys. And that’s what she called it. I heard them fighting. She said that Dad was trying to make himself out to be more important because he could create things, and all she could do was destroy. She said he was trying to put himself up on a pedestal, but nothing he could create could make him more powerful than she was – they were _equals_. He got pissy when she started destroying planets intended for this solar system.

“So, he got the four of us together, and said he had a little mission for us, and that he was coming along. He didn’t tell us at first where we were going, or what the ‘mission objective’ was. So, there we were, Michael and I were maybe thirty, or the equivalent, but we were still so _unbearably_ naïve, Cassie, you just can’t know. Raph and Gabe were a little younger. _And we were going on a mission with Dad! So exciting!_ ” Lucifer waved his hands in the air.

“We went over to Auntie Amara’s, and Dad went inside, told us to wait with ‘the blanket’ as he called it, just outside the door. By this time, Mikey and I were convinced it was just a prank, and we were laughing, but trying to be quiet. And then Dad pushed Aunt Amara out the door, and she was disheveled, bruises were already forming on her arms, and it became clear that it was no prank. And then Dad literally _ripped the skin off of Amara’s shoulder_ , and he shoved her into the blanket, and shouted at us to ‘wrap her up tightly, boys!’ So we did. We had no idea that ‘the blanket’ was really a multidimensional holding cell, or that the birthmark on the skin he’d torn from her shoulder would be the key that would lock her away in it for millennia. Dad didn’t tell us. _We had no idea what we’d done_.

“But it was clear, like I said, from the bruising, if nothing else, that it wasn’t just some joke, it was serious business. And all of us were pretty quiet, and tried to steer clear of Dad for a while after.

“Except for me. Dad summoned me to him that same evening. He told me that it had become necessary ‘ _for the good of Creation_ ’ that Amara be locked away where she could do no damage, and that, because I had shown that I could handle responsibility, he was giving me a _task_. He made me roll up my sleeve beyond the elbow. And then he took the skin he’d ripped from Auntie Amara out of his pocket, and he grabbed my upper arm with one hand, so I couldn’t pull away, and with the other, he pressed Amara’s skin to mine, just below my elbow, on the inside of my arm, and _her birthmark burned itself into my skin_.

“It hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt, before or since, Cas. _I screamed_. Dad backhanded me across the face and ordered me to be quiet. He said that I was now both the Lightbringer, and the Guardian of the Darkness, at once. And then he told me to get back to work, and dismissed me from his presence. I felt so _betrayed_.

“I found Raph, who was always the best of us at healing, and he did what he could, but it was still _agony_. It felt like electric shocks over and over and over, each more brutal than the last. I couldn’t handle my choirs. Gabe took one, Michael the other, and I just lay in my bed whimpering, _desperately_ trying not to scream again. I don’t know how much time passed before it felt better, or if it really ever did, but eventually, I guess that I got used to the way it felt. I went back to work. I tried to fit in, like before, but I couldn’t. I was in so much pain, still. Physical pain, from the Mark; psychological pain, from Dad’s actions toward me.

“I’d always been the one who tried to tease others gently out of their bad moods. I tried to continue to do that, but found that I just made things _worse_. My attempts at light teasing now came across as hurtful, bullying. I didn’t _intend_ that, but the pain was changing me.

“I told the other Archangels what Father had done, and said. They could see the Mark for themselves, obviously, but they couldn’t see what it was doing _to **me**_ , _inside_. And none of them believed me, then, when I told them that Father had struck me, ordered me to be quiet, or about what I’d heard Amara say. That amplified my feelings of betrayal. I felt like my whole family was abandoning me. I had no one in whom I could safely confide.

“I started to lash out. At Michael, at Dad. Gabe was about the only one I could stand to have around me; even if he didn’t completely believe me, he _tried_ to make me feel better, at least. He told me jokes, and brought me new things he’d found.

“Eventually, I couldn’t take any more of the whispering, the back-biting comments. At dinner, in front of most of the angelic host, I challenged Father. I don’t even remember, now, what it was that we were arguing about, specifically – just some minor administrative snafu.

“Father got angry. And that’s when he decided that angels should bow down to humans. Not because we were lesser than they, Cas, but just because _I had challenged his authority_ over something stupid, and he wanted to humiliate me. He knew the others would all fall in line, and feel no humiliation, but he knew that I would feel it, keenly. And so, I _refused_. I refused to bow down to anyone other than Father _himself_. And that angered him to the point where he became dangerous.

“He took me by the arm, and hauled me out of the hall, into a private antechamber, and there, Cas, _he beat me_. Savagely. To within an inch of my life, and I’m not engaging in hyperbole. He was utterly enraged because I, one of his mere creations, had dared to challenge him, yet again. He cast me into Hell. And originally, Cas, I was not in charge of it – no one was. It was just a place with barren, cold cells that Dad had created to house the angry dangerous souls who might contaminate Heaven if allowed in. From the beginning, Dad knew there would be _some_. Anyone who tries to tell you that I am solely responsible for the corruption of mankind, Cas, is _lying_. Sure, I did corrupt _some_ , later; but there were _always_ evil people. Dad just doesn’t like to admit it.

“So, when he cast me down, I found myself in one of those barren, cold cells. Locked away, no access to any kind of entertainment, or hope of relief from my agony. And by then, I really _was_ in absolute agony – between the pain of betrayal, and the physical pain from the Mark and Dad’s beat-down, I could barely move. I lay there on the floor for what seemed like at least a thousand years, but I don’t know how long it really was.

“Then finally, Father came to see me. He brought Raph and Gabe with him. Raph tended to my wounds. I didn’t say from where they’d come. And then once I was patched up, Father said that since I had seen fit to challenge his authority, and to rebel, since I thought I could do a better job, he was giving me my own kingdom. I could rule _Hell_. I could roam the Earth, if I chose to do so, and I could fill Hell and rule its denizens, but I could _never_ return to Heaven. He mocked me, told me that he had intended for me, his Lightbringer, to one day rule in Heaven, but now I _never_ could.”

Cas’ heart ached for Lucifer, who was in tears by this point in his tale. Cas took Lucifer’s hand, and gasped – touch-reading showed him what he’d already suspected.

 _Every word Lucifer was saying was absolute truth_.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck is such an SOB. Poor Luci. *sniffle*
> 
> More to come, shortly. ;)
> 
> Comments??


	108. Lucifer's Story, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer continues his story. Cas and Lucifer try to heal Michael. Dean writes another letter.

Lucifer continued, barely noticing Cas’ touch-reading of him, “And then Dad turned on his heels, and, ordering Raph and Gabe to follow, he left me there, still in the cell, though now the door was open.

"Well, he’d _said_ I could roam the Earth, so I went to the Garden. It was lovely, and the loveliest thing in it was Eve. Now, Adam was a picky bastard. He’d had Lilith, but she wasn’t pliant and submissive enough for him. He’d asked God to create someone just for him, and Father delivered with Eve. He made her sweet, and loving, and kind – and intentionally designed her to bow her will to that of _men_. Adam being the only man in the Garden, I suppose he thought that was safe.

“She was so kind, so sweet, and she felt sorry for me. She listened to my tale of woe, and didn’t judge me. She tended to my wounds further, and then, one day, she kissed me. That was _all!_ I _never_ intended to seduce Eve; I just desperately needed a friend, and she was so kind to me. I didn’t ask her to kiss me – I didn’t even know what a kiss was, until she did it! But Father believed Adam when he told him that I had set out to seduce Eve, even though both Eve and I denied it.

“So, he took Adam and Eve from the Garden. Now, there were _God-created_ humans, like Adam and Eve, and Lilith, and then there were _humans who had evolved, slowly, over time_ , from the other animals that he’d made, and most of those were centered in what is now called Africa and the Middle East – the Fertile Crescent. There were a few in other places, but the largest populations were there. The God-created humans came later, and were Dad’s attempt to improve upon evolution, but they were actually indistinguishable from the others. So, when he removed them from the Garden, Dad dropped Adam and Eve somewhere in Mesopotamia, in a population center, and I couldn’t find them again right away. But he also gave me Lilith, and told me that she was useless to his design, and she could be my _plaything_.

“He taunted me, told me that I had a talent of creation almost as strong as his own, and that I could use Lilith to _reverse-engineer_ the creation process. I could tear her down, and rebuild her, see how it was done. So I did.

“But the rebuild didn’t go as well as I had anticipated, and Lilith was no longer human when I was done. She was a demon. The pain of being stripped down and rebuilt – along with the twisted feelings that the Mark had engendered in me, making me incapable of rebuilding her straight and untwisted – had re-formed her into a corrupted being. But she was a corrupted being who existed to serve _me_ , not Father. And it hit my ego hard. I wanted – _needed_ , then – to have more beings who existed to serve me.

“So, I set out to create some, from scratch. I discarded the first thirty or so as unworthy efforts. But then I created Asmodeus. He was not at all submissive, but he respected my strength, and served out of respect and loyalty – or, at least, he did then. Next was Azazel; he was cunning, and loyal, liked to form teams and plan strategies. Then came Dogon. She was a bitch, quite frankly, but she had the hots for Lilith, and I used that to keep her in line, and she could be useful now and then. And then, last, was Ramiel. Now, Azazel, he was my second in command, after Lilith. He was loyal and I knew I could trust him. But Ramiel was actually my favorite, even though he was third in line. He was smart, tough, possessive, sadistic when it suited him, physically powerful. He was loyal, to me, and to his siblings, though they wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

“And then, I decided that I wanted a _human_ pet. I finally tracked down Eve, and she’d had two children, who, by that time, were already grown men. Cain, and Abel. Abel was a _beauty_ ; just stunning. He actually looked a bit like Dean, Cas, so you’d have appreciated him. Abel had a wife, but he wasn’t interested in her, particularly. He had children, but he didn’t much care about them. He batted for both teams, and had a little more interest in the men’s, if you get my drift. And, he was _incredibly_ submissive. To _anyone_ , really. He always gave in to his wife, always gave in to his kids, to his boss, his neighbors, his parents. Everyone always took and took and took from him. No one ever bothered to _give_ him anything.

“So, I did. I would drop by, and I would be interested in him, in what he wanted. I gave him pretty little shells and ribbons, and other little things, nothing much, but anything was more than he’d ever gotten from anyone else. And I was so far gone, so far under the Mark’s influence by then, Cas; I could see what I was doing, but it was like I was a puppet and the Mark was pulling my strings. I set out to seduce Abel, intentionally twisting him into becoming my little submissive pet. By being kind and generous to him, I utterly corrupted him. That boy would have done _anything_ for me, including killing himself, his wife, or his kids, if I’d asked it of him. He _belonged_ to me. And it was like nectar to me. I wanted _more_.

“But Cain saw what was happening, and he didn’t want Abel ending up in Hell, my pet slave for eternity. He offered me a deal – if I let _Abel_ go, I could have _his_ soul, instead. Abel had to go to Heaven, but Cain would _willingly_ come to Hell, and fight for me, become my soldier, train my forces. He said that if I went around challenging the Almighty, I was going to need forces, eventually, and they should be well-trained knights. Cain himself was a fighting man, where Abel had been a farmer. I saw the wisdom in Cain’s plan, but to make sure that he ended up in Hell, I told him that he had to commit a sin – he had to murder his own brother. I would let Abel go to Heaven, but Cain had to send him there. And then he had to come to me, willingly – and still alive. Had to kiss my feet, and swear his oath to serve me. And Cain did it.

“So, once his oath had been sworn, I gave him the Mark. It didn’t come off of me, but I could duplicate it and pass it. And I did. And when Cain inevitably died, he was immediately reborn as a demon, like Lilith. I made him a Knight of Hell, and had him corrupt and kill other humans, strip them down into demons, and train them up to be Knights, like him.

“And I saw that there was a possibility for challenging Dad’s rule through sheer force of numbers. If Hell had more souls than Heaven, potentially, it might be possible to take the fight to him. And someday, to win. To go home, Cas.

“But Dad circumvented me. He saw that the humans were too corruptible, and that I was gaining too much of a foothold. So, he set up a conflict between me and Mikey. Billed as the way to end the world forever, the literal apocalypse, he tried to make a fight between us inevitable. He made _**Mikey** want the fight_ by lying to him about me, and by claiming that after the apocalypse, the world would revert to the state it was in at the time of the Garden. Of course, as you know from Apocalypse World, that was the furthest thing from the truth. He made _**me** want the fight_ by having Mikey demonstrate to me that he believed in Dad’s lies.

“And at the same time, he condemned me to the Cage, another multidimensional trap, which was, at once, in Hell, and in my own mind. More than a cell, the Cage was itself a torture device, inescapable, and sealed with about a million different hexes, each of which could be broken only by the occurrence of a specific event, in a particular order. Now, only a very few had to actually occur in order, and only sixty-six had to occur in all, to break enough seals to release me. But as you know, Cas, it took millennia – and teaming up with angels who wanted the apocalypse to finally happen, so they could attain the supposed paradise that would come about after the fight – to actually get all sixty-six to occur. And in the meantime, I was trapped, being further twisted by both the Mark, and the Cage.

“And you know the rest, Cassie. _You lived it_.”

Cas patted Lucifer’s arm comfortingly. “I’m sorry, Lucifer. Sorry that I believed so ill of you for so long. I’m glad now that you’re free of the Mark and the Cage.

"Let me ask you: if we win, if we can restore Heaven to what it should be – would you want to come home? Not to be in charge, but just to be up there. Or, if you could remake it, uncorrupted and untwisted, swept clean of its history, would you prefer to go back to ruling in Hell, or just to be there, with someone else in charge? Or would you like to simply retire to a house in the country? Or is there some other option you’d prefer? If you could do as you pleased, Lucifer, _what would you want?_ ”

Lucifer stared at Cas uncomprehendingly. “Do you know, Castiel, that is the first time anyone, ever, has asked me what I wanted to do?”

Cas nodded. “I suspected as much. Think about it. You don’t have to answer now. But if we win, I’m certainly not about to send you back to the Cage. You’ve suffered enough, brother.”

Cas gave Lucifer a gentle hug, and Lucifer hesitantly hugged back, then clutched Cas to him and sobbed, brokenly. Cas held him and let him just let it out. Clearly, this was an emotional storm that had needed to hit for literal eons.

Once the sobbing had subsided into hiccoughing gasps, and Lucifer was a tad more stable, Cas told him, “I’d still like to see Michael. Even if he can’t give lucid testimony, I can still try touch-reading him. And perhaps I can give him some peace.”

Lucifer nodded. “If we work together, maybe we can heal Mikey enough that he can be at peace. Hold on, let me see if I can find him. Wait here; I know where he likes to hide out.”

Lucifer flew off through the corridors of Sam’s memory palace. Cas waited patiently, and in a few moments, Lucifer returned, with Michael in tow. Lucifer and Cas both touched Michael’s forehead gently. A moment later, Michael blinked, then smiled softly.

“Hello, Lucifer. It’s good to see you, brother. And Castiel. You look well.”

***

Dean had a few more letters, still. He sat down, got out his notebook and pen, and uncapped his pen.

***

_Dear Amelia,_

_We’ve never met, and Sam’s told me almost nothing about you, beyond your name. What I do know, I know from having basically stalked you on the internet. Sorry, not sorry. I’m gone for a year, I get back, and find out that my brother’s put his whole life aside to essentially shack up with someone, I’m looking into that person._

_But what I found reassured me. Smart, gentle, veterinarian. You were on the run from your messed-up life every bit as much as poor Sammy was, when he found you. You were a military wife who thought her husband had been killed in action, body unrecoverable. You fled, not able to bear the pain, and ended up in a little vet clinic by the side of the road in a one-road town in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t out to try to seduce a hunter, you weren’t trying to lure Sammy to his death. You were just trying to figure out your own mess of a life, and then Sam brought in a dog he’d accidentally hit with his car, and the two of you just connected. It just happened. Sometimes, things really do just happen._

_You made Sam happy. You gave him peace. I know he misses you. I know he still looks you up on the internet, but never contacts you. He forgets to erase his browsing history. He doesn’t contact you because he knows you’re trying to make it work with your husband, who wasn’t dead after all, and he honors that choice. But you should never doubt that Sammy loves you. Present tense. I think he probably always will. He’ll move on, eventually._

_Sammy always wanted a dog, growing up. He left Riot with you, knowing you’d take good care of him. That alone should show you how much Sam trusts you. **He trusts you with his dog, Amelia.**_

_I wish I’d had a chance to get to know you. I think you were good for Sam at a time when I couldn’t be there for him. That alone makes me love you._

_Thank you, Amelia._

_Dean_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lucifer!   
> Yay, Mikey seems lucid!  
> More progress from Dean!
> 
> :)
> 
> Comments??


	109. The Unfinished Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes a few more letters. Just after starting one, he realizes something.

Dean continued to write a few more letters that he wanted to get done before his next session with Mia.

***

_Dear Becky,_

_I don’t know you very well. I’m not entirely sure I’d want to. You’ve been a little bit scary, sometimes. A little obsessive, a little overly possessive of Sam, a little too oddly reticent of admitting to having been dating Chuck._

_But I will say this, Becky – it was a little bit flattering to know that there was someone out there who, having read all those books, knew all of our flaws, and yet still wanted to know us, hang out with us, and (in Sam’s case, at least), love us. Creepy, but flattering._

_And although it was frightening when you put Sam under a love potion/spell, and tied him down to your bed, having married him under false pretenses – at the same time, it was good for Sam’s ego. Except that it wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real, because while you’d read about Sam, you didn’t know the real Sam._

_The books don’t really cover everything, just a lot of things. But it’s the small details the books miss that make Sam who he is. And you didn’t know those details, so you didn’t really know Sam._

_I do see how you could be sweet, if you let yourself relax. And, since Sam doesn’t remember to erase his browser history, so I know what he researches, I know he’s researched you, and stayed friends with you on Facebook, which means that he does have at least a small soft spot for you._

_I also know, from Sam’s browser history, that you’ve moved on, gotten married, and have two kids now. Good for you. I mean that. I harbor you no ill will. Sam escaped unscathed, and willing to be friendly, so I am, too._

_Thank you for letting Sam go, Becky. Thank you for moving on, and finding something real. I hope it makes you happy._

_Oh, and by the way, Becky: **yes, Destiel is real.**_

_You’re welcome._

_Dean_

***

_Dear Gabriel:_

_You probably don’t want to know this, but I gave Sammy some advice a couple of days ago. You’ll probably find it a bit ironic, coming from me._

_He told me that he thought he had messed things up with you, that he’d told you he didn’t want to see you taking risks, couldn’t stand to watch you die again, for him, and that you’d told him to invest in blindfolds. (By the way: clever turn of phrase; shit thing to say to my brother; don’t do it again; I know where you sleep.) I asked Sam if there was no upcoming danger, if the two of you were just going to be comfortably ensconced in the library with translations and research work, would he want there to be something between the two of you? He said he couldn’t take danger out of the equation, because of Chuck, but that he knew you could take care of yourself; his problem was that you thought you had to sacrifice yourself to save him. Ah, the fabulous Winchester self-esteem._

_So, this is what I told him:_

_“You think Cas wouldn’t sacrifice himself to save you, or me, Sam? You think I wouldn’t sacrifice myself for you? Hell, I **have** sacrificed myself for you, Sam. Jack would, too. And you’d sacrifice **yourself** for any of us, too. Sam, during the Trials, you were willing to sacrifice yourself for **strangers!** Putting yourself on the line for people you love is part of loving people, Sam. You’re not being fair to Gabe if you’re gonna let his willingness to die for you – which you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat, Bitch – stand in the way of you guys being together, if that’s the **only** thing that’s stopping you. Now, if you’re not **attracted** to Gabe, if you don’t **care** about him, that’s one thing. **But if you love him, or think you could** – then Sam, what the **fuck** are you waiting for? Don’t do what I did with Cas. Don’t let eleven years go by before you tell him how you feel. Don’t make me have to say, ‘it’s about time,’ back to you, little brother. **Get your shit together** , figure out what you want and how you feel, and **then tell Gabe**. And if you are going to let him down, let him down easy, Sam. Gabe’s family.”_

_And you **are**. Not just because you so recently welcomed me to your family, because of Cas, but because Sam and I care about you. For a long time, before I could admit how I felt about him, I considered Cas my other brother. Cas no longer holds that position for me, obviously, but you do. Just as Cas does for Sam. Even if neither of us were with either of you or Cas romantically, we’d still love both of you, and you’d still be our family. Because our motto is, and has long been, that **family don’t end in blood. Friends are the family you choose**._

_Now, I think that, since I gave Sam that unintentionally ironic advice, he’s gotten his head out of his ass, and talked to you. But he hasn’t reported back to me about it yet, so I don’t know how that discussion went._

_But it doesn’t matter how it went, Gabe. **You’re family**. No matter what, you have a place, a home, here, always._

_Even if you did kill me over 120 times. And no, you’ll **never** ever hear the end of that._

_I love you anyway._

_Always,_

_Dean_

***

_Dear Crowley,_

_Thank you. You started out in a position very adversarial to me and Sam, but at the end, you gave your life for ours. In between, you helped us so many times, in so many ways. Yeah, you fucked us a few times, too, but it was your job, you were the King of Hell; I can’t really hold it against you._

_Even when I had the Mark, I really do believe that you tried your best to help me. You served your own interests at the same time, of course – but you **did** help me. When I died and came back as a demon, you helped me make that transition, and it could have gone down a lot worse for me if you hadn’t._

_I’m sorry we had to send Gavin back to die. I think you had very few opportunities for love in a very long existence, and we took that one away from you. He had to go back, but I’m sorry that it hurt you._

_You’d be proud of Rowena. Your mom saved us all, dude. She knew it was supposed to be Sam that killed her, and she knew she had to die to save us, so she forced him to do it in the manner and the time of her choosing. She was very brave, Fergus._

_Almost as brave as you, man._

_Thank you._

_Dean_

***

_Dear Rowena,_

_Thank you. You saved us all, darlin’. You were so brave. It was too soon for you to go, and I actually miss you, Ro. Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that, now, did you?_

_I think Sam’s maybe finally starting to forgive himself for having to kill you. It helps that he knows that you meant it, it was your choice, you wanted it, and you wanted it to be him to do it. But oh, I know he misses you, Red._

_We got Jack back. And Gabriel. And Cas and I are finally together (and yes, I know, you’re another one saying ‘its about time’ – hush), and happy._

_I really hope that you were right and that your sacrifice was worth it._

_Thanks again,_

_Dean_

***

_Dear Kevin,_

_I am so sorry, man. I hope you’re managing to keep yourself together, wherever you wandered off to after we discovered you couldn’t go to Heaven._

***

Dean had a sudden realization, and didn’t finish the letter to Kevin. He needed to talk to Cas, _right fucking now_. Because maybe the Big Bad they thought they were fighting against wasn’t who they thought, at all.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh. Any guesses as to what Dean remembered/realized? ;)
> 
> Sorry about all the feels, but y'know, this was advertised as a story about therapy. Can't do therapy without feelings, so you really can't say you weren't warned! ;D
> 
> Comments! (that's not a suggestion!) :D


	110. Michael Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gives Cas his testimony.

Cas smiled gently at Michael. “Hello, Michael. How are you feeling?”

“Better, Castiel, thank you. I believe I have not been entirely sane for quite a while now, but I do think I might be lucid, now, at least for the moment.” Michael’s voice was soft, gentle. Although he was still in the late Adam Milligan’s body, it was not Adam’s voice he was using, but his own.

“Michael, why don’t you take a seat here?” Cas guided Michael over to his own chair, and conjured a third, at the right of the one in which Michael was now sitting. Cas seated himself in the new chair, and Lucifer sat back where he’d been before.

“Michael, I need some information from you. Do you feel well enough to provide it to me? It will require you searching your memories from far far back in time, and I don’t want to lose you in those memories and not have you be able to return to us.” Cas held Michael’s hand gently.

Michael nodded. “I’m all right to try, Castiel. But, if I squeeze your hand, it will mean that I can feel myself starting to slip; don’t let me?”

“Of course, Michael, we will do our best to aid you,” Cas told him, gently. “I need you to tell me what you remember about Lucifer, before his fall from grace. Whatever you can think of; anything might be important, all the way back to the very beginning.”

Michael nodded again. “I’ll do my best.” He stretched his other hand out to Lucifer, who leaned forward and took it, carefully. Lucifer smiled encouragingly.

Michael thought a moment, and sighed softly. And then he began to speak.

“I was Father’s first creation. _For a whole ten minutes_ , he loved _me_ best, because there was truly no comparison – literally no one else existed.” Michael laughed, quietly and self-deprecatingly.

“Then he created Lucifer, my beautiful brother, and it was clear that I was simply _outshined_ – in every possible meaning of the word. Lucifer _glowed_. He _shone_. A light emanated from within him that could hurt your eyes if you stared too long. It was like looking directly at the sun during an eclipse – you could burn your eyes out. He was light and lively and full of grace. He danced, and it made you want to hear the music. He told a joke, and it made you want to laugh forever. He teased you and you felt better instantly, simply because he’d paid you some small amount of his attention.

“You were, truly, the most _beautiful_ thing I’ve ever seen, brother.” Michael spoke directly to Lucifer. Lucifer smiled softly back at him.

Michael continued, “Later, Father created Raphael and Gabriel, and the four of us together were truly something.” Michael’s lips twitched upward into a smile. “All of us learned by doing, seeing, experiencing, and every day we gathered to share with Father, and with each other, what we had learned that day. We laughed easily and often. We shared everything. We played, we worked, we _never_ fought, then. If Father had stopped with the four of us – if he had just been satisfied – I believe we could have been happy _forever_.

“But he _didn_ ’t stop. He was compulsive, _couldn’t_ stop. Creating things, galaxies, stars, planets, animals. Letting animals evolve, oh, he loved that, loved watching the process; he’d focus on that for decades. And more angels. And eventually, humans. Humans _evolved_ , yes, but there were also some that he _created_ , special, to see if he could improve upon what evolution had come up with. He couldn’t; they were indistinguishable. But he created a bunch anyway; he found it _fun_.

“It was like playing with dolls, or watching ants in an ant table, where they don’t know that they’re exposed to your view. He could see anything and everything he wished to see, at any time, could watch from any angle or distance, and never be seen observing. The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle simply didn’t apply; his observation couldn’t be observed, and therefore had no effect whatsoever.

“But it was also distracting. He had responsibilities to his existing creations. He couldn’t just leave us all on our own. So, he started delegating. He divided the angels into the choirs. Originally there were five, and each of the Archangels, except for Lucifer, took responsibility for one; Lucifer was given responsibility for _two_.

“Lucifer was Father’s favorite for a reason. Beyond his light, Lucifer was simply _capable_. He could handle so much more than the rest of us. He was smart, took initiative, carried himself well. He was a _leader_. Angels wanted to follow him. Being in charge of two choirs was nothing to him. He was amazing. I could barely handle the responsibility of the single choir I had under me, and here he was, easily handling two full choirs, and doing most of Father’s administrative work, as well, as Father spent more and more time out in the lab, tinkering.

“One evening, at dinner, Father told the four of us that we all, as a family, were going to undertake a mission. He wouldn’t tell us at first where we were going, or what the ‘mission objective’ was. So, there we were, Lucifer and I were maybe thirty, or the equivalent, but we acted more like teenagers; Raph and Gabe were a little younger. And we were all just so excited to be going on a mission with Father!”

“We found ourselves at Aunt Amara’s; Father went inside, told us to wait with ‘the blanket’ as he called it, just outside the door. By this time, Lucifer and I were convinced it was just a prank, and we were laughing, trying to be quiet. And then Father pushed Aunt Amara out the door. Her hair was a mess, her dress practically ripped to shreds; her lip was cut and bleeding, and bruises were already forming on her arms. It instantly became clear that this was no prank.

"Suddenly, Father reached up and took hold of her shoulder, beneath the thin strap of her dress. He literally ripped her skin off, a good-sized patch of it, from her shoulder, and then he shoved her into the blanket, and shouted at us to ‘wrap her up tightly, boys!’ So we did. Father didn’t tell us that ‘the blanket’ was really a multidimensional holding cell, or that the birthmark on the skin he’d torn from her shoulder would be the key that would lock her away in it for millennia. We had no idea what we had just done.

“But it was clear, as I said, from the bruising, if nothing else, that it wasn’t just some joke, it was serious. And all of us were pretty quiet, and tried to steer clear of Dad for a while after. Except for you, Lucifer. Father summoned you to see him. I remember when the summons came and you and I looked at each other and for the first time, I felt _dread_. But you bravely marched off to see him.

"Later, Lucifer found Raph, who was always the best of us at healing, and he did what he could, but it was obvious that you were still in agony. It looked like electric shocks were hitting you, over and over and over, each more brutal than the last. You couldn’t handle your choirs, so Gabe took one, I took the other, and I remember it was quite a long time before you went back to work.

"Lucifer had always been the one who tried to tease others gently out of their bad moods. Now, his attempts to do so just made things worse. His light dimmed, and finally faded out completely. His attempts at teasing came across as hurtful, bullying. It was clear that Lucifer was _changing_.

“He told us other Archangels what he claimed Father had done, and said. We could see the Mark on his arm for ourselves, obviously, but once it had healed, it didn’t look painful anymore. None of us believed him, then, when he told us that Father had struck him, ordered him to be quiet, or that he’d heard Father and Aunt Amara fighting before the ‘mission’. Lucifer started to lash out. At me, at Father. Gabe was about the only one Lucifer could seem to stand to have around him for any length of time.

“One night, at dinner, in front of most of the angelic host, Lucifer challenged Father over some ridiculous minor administrative matter. That was about the same time as when Father decided that angels should bow down to humans, and Lucifer refused., saying that he would never bow to anyone, other than Father himself. Father then gave Lucifer his own kingdom – Hell. And he told me then that one day, I would be in charge of Heaven. Of course, I thanked Father, happy that he was finally seeming to see me _for myself_ , and not as how I seemed, reflected in Lucifer’s light – or shadow, depending.

“Then one day, many many years later, Father came to me with a disturbing tale. He said he had been told, and upon investigation, had discovered for himself, that Lucifer was _massing an army_ to bring force against us, myself and Father, and all the forces of Heaven! That Lucifer was no longer content with ruling Hell, and wanted to rule over _all_ of Father’s Creation. That Lucifer had been corrupted by Aunt Amara, that before she’d been locked away, she’d managed to poison Lucifer against Father, against us. That the only way to protect Creation was for me to challenge Lucifer to one-on-one combat, for the forces he’d amassed would be surely more than Heaven’s forces could defend against without losses far too heavy to contemplate. That Father was going to lock Lucifer in a Cage that would bind him until such time as I could find my _true vessel_ , my sword, with which to win that combat, and once Lucifer was safely locked away, Father was going to retire from ruling Heaven, and leave that to me. Once I prevailed in battle, Father promised that he would remake the entire Earth to be like his lost Garden, a paradise, for human and angel alike, and then he would go again, leaving me in charge.

“And all of it was _lies_ ; lies or half-truths. Lucifer was massing his forces, simply in a desire to come home. He wished to challenge _Father_ , yes, but not the rest of us. And while he’d been corrupted, it hadn’t been by Aunt Amara, but by being forced _by Father_ to bear her birthmark and be the key that held her in her prison. Lucifer had never wanted to rule in Hell, but had been forced to by Father.”

Lucifer looked startled, and Michael nodded at him.

“Oh, yes, brother, I knew the truth. And that is what I wanted to tell you at Stull Cemetery…before a certain younger angel threw a flaming grenade at my vessel, killing him, and calling me an ‘ _assbutt_ ,’ I believe it was?” Michael smirked at Castiel, who was staring at him in abject horror.

“You mean….” Cas began, and stopped.

Michael nodded again. “Yes, I’m afraid so, Castiel. The simple truth is, _I’ve been on your side all along_. The real ‘assbutt’ here is _Father_.”

***

Dean skidded into the library. “Gabe! Where’s Cas?”

“He’s in Sam’s memory palace, interviewing Lucifer, and possibly Michael. Why? What’s up, Dean-o?”

“The whole reason that Sam and I accepted that _Chuck_ was really _God_ in the first place was that he gave Kevin Tran admission to _Heaven_.”

“Okay. And?”

“ _He didn’t! He sent Kevin to hell!_ ”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm.... Verrrry interesting, no? ;)
> 
> Comments, please and thank you?! :D


	111. Failure to Believe Does Not Constitute Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean chat. Jack dreams of Kelly. Kathy and Chuck chat.

Cas left Sam’s memory palace, and revived Sam.

“Did you get what you needed, Cas?” Sam asked.

“I think so, Sam. Michael is now lucid. Lucifer is going to try to keep him that way. They’ve both promised not to disturb your dreams again, so I can now restore your REM cycle permanently.” Cas did so.

They left the soundproofed office, and returned to the library. Shann was reviewing some older reports to get the hang of the style they used internally; Gabe was working on a translation; and Dean was sitting at the table, waiting for Cas. Sam went back to working on the encrypted codex he was trying to break.

“Hello, Dean.” Rather than interrupt the others’ work, Dean and Cas headed for the kitchen.

“So, here’s the thing, Cas,” Dean said, once they both had a cup of coffee and were seated at the kitchen table. “A little over four years ago, when you were possessed by Lucifer, Sam and I discovered that Kevin’s ghost was haunting the Bunker. He was stuck in the Veil, because Heaven had been closed by Metatron. A few months later, that black vein virus was set loose by Amara again, but this time, our previous solution wasn’t working. Chuck stepped in and stopped it, healed all those who were sick but hadn’t yet died, and he transported us back here. Kevin’s ghost appeared, and after a conversation, Chuck told Kevin he’d been ‘in the Veil long enough’ and that he ‘deserved an upgrade’, and, with a wave of his hand, he supposedly sent Kevin’s soul to its rightful place in Heaven. His sending Kevin up to Heaven was the only reason Sam and I were convinced, finally, that Chuck was, in fact, really God.”

“Okay, but you failing to believe something doesn’t make it any less true, Dean. Failure to believe does not constitute proof. Chuck can be God without _you_ believing in him.”

“But Cas, he only _told_ us he sent Kevin upstairs. In fact, Kevin’s soul went to _Hell_. Remember? When we cleared up after Chuck’s mess in the cemetery, after Rowena sealed the rift, Kevin couldn’t go up to Heaven because he’d previously been in Hell, and couldn’t go back to Hell because he’d helped us, so he decided it would be better for him to wander as an untethered spirit.

"Since when does _God_ outright lie? If Chuck couldn’t send Kevin upstairs because Metatron sealed Heaven, then maybe Chuck isn’t God – God would know how to unseal Heaven, he was the one who dictated the instructions on the tablets in the first place. Or maybe he is God, but was already low in power, even before Sammy shot him. He said he’d been away from Heaven a long time, he said he’d been wandering the Earth a long time, incognito, in human form – what if doing so weakened him?”

“With regard to 'since when does God lie?' the answer to that is, apparently, always, based on the stories of Gabriel, Lucifer, and Michael. I understand your concern, but it’s frankly just a lot of maybes and what-ifs, Dean. And it may not matter. I don’t want to get hopes up too soon, but I’m on a research trail that may make the entire discussion irrelevant. I need to check some records, in Heaven.

"I’m thinking that I might go upstairs briefly tomorrow, while you meet with Mia. I also wish to consult with Hannah, Inias, and Balthazar about the present condition of Heaven, make sure they have enough angel population to keep the lights on and to power whatever else they need. And I thought I might check in on family members, if you or Sam have any messages to pass along.”

“Can you give me a hint as to this research trail, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Let me put it to you this way, Dean. Before God became Chuck, long before he left Heaven, he told Michael that he intended to retire, and leave Michael in charge; but when he actually left, he just snuck out. He left Michael in charge on a _de facto_ basis, but _not_ officially – that’s why only _some_ angels, who were loyal to Michael, actively helped with the plan to recruit you as Michael’s vessel; there were many more who did nothing to assist Michael.

“God also told Lucifer, when he cast him into Hell, that he had intended to retire, and leave _Lucifer_ in charge; he also earlier told Lucifer that Lucifer had as strong a talent for creation as he did.

“Chuck never intended to be the only ruler of Heaven. But I think he was looking for someone with _very particular character traits_ to succeed him, and hadn’t found that entity. I believe I know what the traits are, but I want to look at the records to be sure.

“So, is it all right with you if I go up tomorrow, while you meet with Mia, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Sure, Cas. I’m fine, now. And if I were to suddenly be ‘not fine’, Mia would be right there. As I'm sure you planned.”

Cas nodded.

“Okay. Well, then. I’ve got some more letters to write.” Dean got up abruptly and left the kitchen, leaving his mug behind.

Castiel sighed. He put the mugs in the sink, and wandered back to the library to find a book to read.

***

Jack was laying down for yet another nap, in hopes of dreaming about his mother. He didn’t really have a lot to do until the school year started and Sam gave him lessons and homework, and he didn’t want to be a nuisance to the folks working in the library, as they were busy. So, since it seemed the only way he could help was to try to reach Kelly, here he was, sleeping, again.

He snuggled into his blanket, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let himself drift off.

And eventually, he found himself again walking through that field of tall grass and flowers. There was no path that he could see, but he was fairly certain he was going in the right direction, and he was proved right when the field opened up into the same yard, edged by carefully tended flower gardens.

“Hey, Roosevelt! Hey boy!” He played with the dog for a moment, laughing.

“Hello, Jack. Back so soon?” Kelly held both hands out to her son, and he took them gently in his.

“Mother. I’m sorry to disturb you….”

“Stop that at once. You are _always_ welcome here, son. Always.” Kelly smiled up at him. “You’re so _tall!”_

Jack laughed. “Not as tall as Sam and Dean.”

“No, that’s true. I didn’t know them long, but I can still remember how they towered over everyone.” Kelly sat down on a wooden bench, and patted it, inviting Jack to sit by her. “So, son, what do you need today?”

“Well, to see you, first of all. But also to ask you questions about your message to Castiel.”

“Ah. And how is Castiel?” Kelly asked.

“He’s well. He and Dean finally figured out that they should be together. But he was confused by your message, mother.”

“Was he?” Kelly’s lips quirked as if she were trying not to smile.

“He got that you meant the light in Dean’s soul, but not what you meant about it being ‘the key.’ The key to what, Mother? What kind of key? Does it unlock something? Or is it important, like a key ingredient? We didn’t understand what you meant.”

Kelly smiled, then, and ruffled Jack’s hair. “Oh, my sweet boy. Some things have to be _found_ , not given. If I _could_ tell you more, I would. Castiel will have to discover the meaning on his own.”

“Are Dean or Cas in danger, Mother?”

“I don’t know, Jack. I have no more information. _The light is the key_. Castiel will have to discover the meaning of that on his own. _Wake up now_ , Jack. It’s time.”

Jack sat bolt upright in bed, wide awake.

***

Kathy wiped her mouth with her napkin. “That was delicious, Chuck. Thank you for making dinner. And for cleaning up, today. You didn’t need to do all that, but I appreciate it.”

“Well, I realized that I was kinda being a jerk. I pushed my way in here, I was probably, no _definitely_ , a little, well, maybe a _lot_ , over-assertive, and I was taking up a lot of your space. Y’know, I don’t _mean_ to be rude, Kathy. I’m…I’m a little… backward, socially. I don’t relate well to people. Or to anyone, really. I did a bad job as a father, my kids all hate me. Ever want to fix things, but you don't know how, so you don't do anything at all, because you don't want to get it wrong? That's what I've been doing, or rather, not doing. Frozen on the edge of trying to fix things, but so unsure that I'll get it right that I'm paralyzed, and can't do anything at all." Chuck frowned.

“I’m inept sometimes, when I should be… I dunno… _cool_. I mean, I’m _God_ , y’know? I should be… _impressive_. But I’m not. I’m just this squirrelly little guy with no social graces whatsoever, who barges into people’s homes uninvited and takes over.

“You probably hate me, too. I don’t blame you.” Chuck sighed.

“I don’t hate you, Chuck. I’ll admit that I was a little afraid of you, _at first_. But I think mostly, you’re just… _lonely_. You need a friend.” Kathy smiled softly at him, then pushed her chair back and rose from the table. “You cleaned and cooked; I’m on dishes.” She started clearing the table.

“Thank you, Kathy.” Chuck sounded a little wistful.

“You’re welcome.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, I think we can maybe all relate to Chuck there - frozen on the edge of doing something to fix a problem because we might make it worse. Poor guy. ;)
> 
> Is Dean grasping at straws, or onto something? ;) And what is Cas researching? Stay tuned! ;)
> 
> So, Kelly was kind of unhelpful. But should a ghost in a dream really BE helpful? ;)
> 
> Comments, please?? :D


	112. More Journaling and Letter Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean journals and writes letters. The chapter title kinda gave that away, didn't it?

Dean went to the bedroom he shared with Cas, and kicked the leg of the chair. He threw himself down onto it, and kicked the chair leg again.

_Dammit._

He got out his notebook and pen. He uncapped the pen, opened the notebook to a blank page, and stared at it. Then he started to write.

***

_**Monday afternoon**._

_**Dammit**. I thought of something this morning, in the middle of writing my letter to Kevin – which I have to remember to go back and finish – and realized it could be important, so I went to tell Cas. I couldn’t even see him immediately – which was fine, he was busy, I’m not the only person who needs his attention, I get it, and I didn’t mind waiting – but even when he and I **did** talk, I got the impression that he was only barely listening to me, his focus on something else completely. He didn’t seem to take me seriously, and at the end of our conversation, he announced his intention to go up to Heaven tomorrow for research, during my session with Mia – like he was specifically planning on being away from me only when I could be treated by a medical professional. I know I just had a panic attack, but I’m over it, and it really struck me as condescending on his part. Like, “oh, now Dean has to be handed with kid gloves, because if I’m not around, he might break.” Forgive me for having had a short relapse into self-loathing, when that’s been my default attitude about myself for, **oh, 40 years now**. Three short weeks of progress isn’t about to undo a lifetime of crap. I get that I need to change, but any change takes time, and I think I’m doing fairly well, considering! One panic attack doesn’t make me incapable of reason, ffs._

_And when I asked Cas what he was researching, he basically said that God had promised Michael that Michael would rule heaven when God retired, but at some point, God had promised the same thing to Lucifer. Neither panned out – when God left Heaven, he didn’t retire officially, he just snuck out and left Michael in charge on a de facto basis. But Cas believes that God never intended to be Heaven’s sole ruler forever, it’s just that he had particular character traits in mind for his successor. Cas thinks he knows what those traits were, but he wants to look at Heaven’s records to be sure._

_It almost made it sound like Cas was thinking about trying to become God **himself** , again, like when he ate all of Purgatory’s souls and went a little mad with power. I really hope that’s **not** his thinking, because, much as I love Cas, when he thought he was God, he was a **dick** , and I really can’t support him in going back to that. It’s one thing for Cas to be technically in charge of Heaven because the angels powering it are loyal to him – the power goes to **Heaven** , not to Cas. But when Cas has the power, he goes nuts. He can’t handle it._

_On the one hand, I appreciate that Cas let me know what his plans were. He was being considerate, even offered to pass messages on to our folks in Heaven, if Sam or I had something we want them to know. He didn’t just go off on his own without saying where he was going or what he was doing, and that’s progress for him. On the other hand, he doesn’t need to be utterly dismissive of my ideas._

_And now I feel all pissed-off and angsty, and **I don’t like it**. I feel like I’m justified in being a little upset with Cas, and I get that that’s all it is – **a little upset**. But we just got together. I don’t **want** to be mad, not even a little bit. I want everything to be **good** between us. I don’t want the upcoming potential badness with Chuck to come between me and Cas, or for anything to be bad between us when we take Chuck on. We need to be **together** in our thinking on plans and strategies, and if he does things that upset me – like just dismissing what I say out of hand because I had a panic attack the other day – or I do things that upset him, even just a little, there’s going to be trouble when we try to work together, and we can’t have that, not going up against Chuck. It’s a crack in the foundation, and we have to be **solid**. (I know that Mia will say, “so, talk to Cas.” Okay, Mia, I’ll try. But if he’s not listening, I can say whatever I want, and it won’t do any good. Communication has to go **both** ways, right?)_

_Also, **apparently** , I have a light in my soul. Well, apparently, **everyone** has a light in their soul, but, apparently, mine is **flaring** brightly enough that Cas noticed it. And then he also noticed that my soul had changed color, and, apparently, that’s odd. Odder, is that Jack had a dream about his mom where he visited her in Heaven, and she told him to tell Cas that he wasn’t imagining things, and “the light is the key.” We don’t know what she meant by “the key”, but Cas is sure that she was referring to the light in my soul, and that it wasn’t just some random dream that Jack had, it actually means something. I honestly can’t imagine **what**._

_So, now Jack is taking nap after nap, trying to re-connect with his mom in his dreams, to ask her what her message meant._

_Sam and Gabriel seem to have resolved some of their issues, but Sam isn’t talking to me about it, so I really have no clue what, if anything, they’re actually doing. For the moment, I'm assuming they're together.  
_

_Sam hired a guy to do the clerical work that just piles up with no one to handle it. His name is Shann, I guess. He seems okay; I haven’t had much to do with him yet, just had some pizza on Friday with the whole group and he was there for that, and then Cas and Jack and I went for a drive, so we dropped him off at his place (Sam had picked him up, our place is hard to find). Sam seems pleased with his work, so that’s good. I guess Sam let him know who Gabe really is, because Shann picked up on the fact that one of the colleges that Gabe attended has been closed for over 120 years, making Gabe over 140 years old (which, of course, he is). I don’t know if he also told him about Cas, or not._

_( **Question for Mia** : I feel like my “regular” journal entries this week have been about current events, what’s going on now, and not about my past; but most of my letters to people are to people from my past, most of whom are dead or otherwise not someone to whom I could actually send a letter. Is that okay? If the cause of my anger issues and alcoholism, and whatever else is wrong with me, is in my past, shouldn’t I be more focused on the past, than on the present? Or should I continue to write about **both?** Or are you going to give me more specific “homework assignments”? Because this week, you said to write what I felt, and that you thought letters were a good idea. I’m not saying it isn’t helping, because I think it might be. I’m just wondering what direction we’re going to be heading in next.)_

_Okay, back to letters. I’m restarting the letter to Kevin, and then I’ll go from there._

_***_

_Dear Kevin,_

_I am so sorry, man. I hope you’re managing to keep yourself together, wherever you wandered off to after we discovered you couldn’t go to Heaven._

_I know there were times when you hated me. I understand. I get it, man, I do. I had no choice but to put you under tremendous pressure, and you never hesitated to tell me how little you liked it, but you did the work anyway. I know I got cranky and demanding – a lot – but dude, you far exceeded my expectations, every time. You got us the answers we needed to do what we needed done. Sometimes it took you longer than I (unreasonably) wanted it to, but you were the only person on the planet who could have gotten us the answers at all, then, and I really do appreciate how hard you worked. I know you were frazzled, and that I didn’t help your stress level. I’m sorry for that, too._

_You were a good guy, who got a bad deal. Cas is currently in command of Heaven, but not able (yet) to change God’s rules for admission. He’s working on finding a way, and so are a lot of other people, myself included, Kev. We’re going to take Chuck down, and when we do, I’ll make sure that whoever ends up in charge makes it so you can go on up. **You deserve it.**_

_I miss you, Kevin._

_Hang in there._

_Dean_

_***_

_Ruby:_

_You’re not ‘dear’ to me, and I’m not going to pretend._

_You were a scheming demon whore who took advantage of my brother to further your own aims. You took advantage of my time in Hell – my absence from Sam’s life – to get your hooks into him. You fed him your own and other demons’ blood to get him hooked, and you fucked him while he drank it to make it more palatable. You turned him into an addict, and he nearly died from the withdrawal he had to endure to get off the sauce. You lied to Sam, you misled him, and you pretended to care about him, when really, all you ever actually cared about was freeing Lucifer from the Cage._

_You were an utter bitch, and I do not regret for one second that I killed your skanky ass. I’d do it again, if I could. I’m glad you’re in The Empty._

_Fuck you._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Meg,_

_I didn’t like you very often, nor very much. We started out as adversaries, and in the beginning, I would have cheerfully ganked you any day of the week._

_But you took care of Cas for nearly a year when he lost it, and you did a really good job at that. You helped us bring down Dick Roman and the rest of the Leviathans. You resisted Crowley’s torture, holding out on him for a year without giving him the information he wanted, passing it to us, instead, when we were able to rescue you from him. And then, you held him off long enough for us to escape with the Angel Tablet before he killed you, giving your life for us. I’m sorry it came to that._

_I think you retained more of your humanity than most stripped-down demons do. I know you told me, once, that you could still remember being human. You claimed it was all self-interest, knowing where your allegiances lied, but I think it was more than that. I think you still had the ability to **love** , Meg. **I think you truly loved Cas**._

_You once made a snarky remark to me about how Cas was my boyfriend first. Back then, I denied it, but even then, **yes, I loved him**. You could pick up on it because you felt the same way. How could I possibly still hate you, knowing that you loved Cas? I could be jealous of the time you had with him, I suppose, but that would be a waste of energy, and why bother? Cas and I are finally together, and happy, so, in the end, he’s with me, and you’re gone. I don’t say that to be petty, though it sounds it. It’s just stating fact. I could have had that time, had I just not been too insecure to admit my feelings for him. Doesn’t matter, now._

_I don’t hate you. You redeemed yourself, and by the time Crowley killed you, I was starting to **like** you. Given time, I think you could have become a part of our family of friends. **I wish you’d had that time.**_

_Goodbye, Meg._

_Thank you for taking such good care of Cas._

_Dean_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More letters in the next chapter. Dean's on a roll. ;)
> 
> Comments? :D


	113. Still More Letter Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes still more letters.

_Dear Anna,_

_You were the first angel who told me that it wasn’t my fault that I had tortured other souls in Hell. You told me to forgive myself. That was almost eleven years ago, and I **really** wish that I had listened. Maybe if I had, I could have avoided a lot of the angst and anger I’ve gone through since then. I still believe that my acceptance of Alastair’s deal is my responsibility to bear, as it was my choice. No one else seems to agree with me, though._

_Sometimes I miss you, still. You were very sweet to me at a time when I felt very alone, so soon after returning from Hell. I didn’t know Cas very well yet, then; Sam was off with Ruby half the time; and while I didn’t have much time with you, you were kind to me; sweet, loving and good._

_I’ll never forget that night in the Impala with you. You were so beautiful, and you had so much compassion. I would have gone back to Hell for you, but when Uriel threatened Sam, I had no choice but to reveal our location. I was glad you forgave me, even more glad that you got your grace back from Uriel, who had stolen it from its landing site._

_We couldn’t prevent Lucifer from being freed from the Cage, but we did stop the Apocalypse. You never needed to kill Sam, Anna. Sam agreed to be Lucifer’s vessel, yes, but then Sam got control back, and fell into the Cage with Lucifer trapped. We got Sam out, later. I know you regretted trying to kill Sam, and that you only did what you thought was necessary._

_Castiel was so reluctant to follow in your footsteps and embrace free will. He has, though, and how. We’re together, now, finally. I think you’d be surprised and pleased, maybe even proud, that he’s unbent so far, and come to embrace his own humanity so much. I think you’d be happy for us._

_I should ask Cas if you were one of the angels The Cosmic Entity revived as loyal to him; I hadn’t thought of that until just now. It would be nice to see your lovely face again. I’d like to think that we could be friends._

_Thank you for starting Cas down the road to accepting his humanity. Without that, we would not be together now._

_Cas makes me happy, and I owe that, in part, to you._

_Thank you,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Balthazar,_

_Remember that time you told me that I had mistaken you “for that other angel, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you”? Yeah. **You were right.** Cas was, and is, in love with me, and I’m in love with him. So, thanks, man._

_Really didn’t appreciate you agreeing to help Sam in his attempt to reject his soul. **Really** didn’t appreciate you forcing us into an alternate reality where we had to pretend to be actors playing ourselves in a television show, but at least you were working with Cas. **Really** didn’t appreciate you going back and keeping the Titanic from sinking **just because you didn’t like Celine Dion’s singing** , but at least you fixed it._

_You helped Sam and I when we needed to find Lisa and Ben. You helped us again when Cas and Crowley were working together, telling us the location of their hideout. Sadly, Cas killed you for that. I know he regrets it, though; he told me the other day that you are one of three angels that he would trust to run Heaven in his absence – he said that although he’d put Hannah in charge of the effort to power Heaven back up, “either Inias or Balthazar could handle that responsibility just as well.” He told me just today that he wants to consult with you tomorrow, assuming he goes upstairs for a bit to do some research._

_So, that means that you’re one of the angels that The Cosmic Entity brought back, and that means that you really are loyal to Cas. So, thank you for that, too, man. It’s nice to know for sure where you really stand._

_It’d be good to see you again. When it’s not directed at me, your cutting wit is kinda fun. Unfortunately, it’s usually directed at me. But I can put up with it, because I think it’d be good for Cas to have you back as his friend. He can relate to you, and that’s good. He needs friends, Balth. Please continue to be one to him._

_Thanks,_

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Benny:_

_I miss you, brother. You saved me, in Purgatory. I got you out, and brought you back, but you got us to the rift, man. Without you, I’d still be there. I didn’t know the rift existed; you did, and you led me to it, and helped me slash my way through the darn place to get there. You even helped me find Cas, though he didn’t come out with us through the rift, as I’d hoped. I’m finally together with Cas, Benny. I think you’d be pleased._

_You saved Sam, too. When I told you my plan to get him out of Purgatory, after Ajay was killed and couldn’t go to get him, you didn’t hesitate. You just laid down your life and let me kill you, to save my brother. And when Sam could have done what I did – bring you out through the rift with him – you refused to go. You stayed behind to kill the vamps that had intended to attack him. I don’t know what happened to you after that, man._

_I hope you’re all right, brother. I reburied your body, instead of burning it, just in case._

_I love you, man._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Cain,_

_I hope you are finally at rest, brother. You deserve it. I didn’t bear the Mark as long as you, and I don’t know **how** you resisted it for so damn long, man. Even with the love of your Collette, who I imagine must have been **amazing**._

_Your reputation as the “Father of Murder” angers me. You saved your brother from an eternity as Lucifer’s pet; you had to kill him and go willingly into Lucifer’s service to do so. You went in with your eyes wide open, and I can relate, man. I’d have done the same for Sammy. Hell, I did **almost** the same thing – I made a deal and went to Hell for 40 years in order to save Sam’s life. I couldn’t save him from choosing to agree to be Lucifer’s vessel, but he ended up being strong enough to trap Lucifer and put him back into the Cage. I think you’d understand how proud I was of him when he regained that control._

_I’m free of the Mark, now. So is Lucifer. Amara told Cas that she removed it from you, as well, and destroyed it. I wonder if, in your slumber in The Empty, you know that you are free of its influence, finally. I hope so. I hope that you are at peace._

_I’m sure that your Collette is in Heaven. We’ll let her know that the Mark is gone. And maybe we can find a way to get the two of you together, so you can both finally be happy. We’ll work on it._

_You deserve to have all the good things that you gave up to save Abel. I would like to see you get them._

_For now, just rest, brother._

_Dean_

_***_

_Dear Collette:_

_You don't know me, but I knew Cain. I wanted to try to let you know that the Mark has been destroyed, and torments him no longer. He is now at peace, sleeping in The Empty, where all angels and demons go when they die._

_There is a group of entities who are trying to find a way to change the rules of Heaven. If we succeed, it would let him be with you there. It may not be possible, so please, don't get your hopes up._

_But you deserve to know that more than 150 years after your death, he still thought of you every day, and spoke of you gently and with love. I envy him for having something so true and deep._

_I respect you for looking past the Mark and the demon, to see the good man beneath. Thank you for that._

_Regards,_

_Dean Winchester_

_***_

_Zachariah:_

_You’re another entity who is not “dear” to me. You were a petty, manipulative, utter bastard, and I’m not sorry I drove an angel blade up through your chin and into your brain. **I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat**._

_You took away all of my own memories and replaced them with fake ones of the life of “Dean Smith,” a character you created in order to try to prove to me that I was always meant to be a hunter. Did you get that idea from Alastair, you son of a bitch? Yeah, you weren’t exactly original._

_**Chuck once told me that you threatened him with resurrection if he tried to commit suicide**. I wonder if you even realize how ironic that is, given that Chuck isn’t just the prophet you thought him, but, in fact, **is your Boss**. And I don’t mean **Michael**._

_By the way, you dipshit, you were **completely** wrong about the outcome of the Apocalypse. I know. I’ve been to a world in an alternate universe where it happened – you were right about Michael winning, yes, but you were completely wrong about it being any kind of a paradise._

_You gave me stage four stomach cancer and ripped out Sam’s lungs. You sent me to a false future, where: Lucifer had won, was still wearing Sam as a meat suit, and had killed me; Cas was a human, having lost his grace, and was a drug addict having daily orgies to deal with the pain of human existence; the Croatoan virus had largely depopulated the Earth and people had to scrounge for supplies; and Chuck told me to “hoard toilet paper.”_

_You resurrected my half-brother, Adam, and told him that if he agreed to be Michael’s vessel, since I wasn’t cooperating, he’d get to see his mother, Kate, again; that was a lie on which you never intended to make good. I know that because at one point when you were still trying to convince me to say “yes,” you called Adam nothing but a “clammy strip of bait” that you used to try to get me to agree._

_You then made both Sam and Adam cough up blood, so I told you that I would agree, but with conditions. I said that the first condition was that I had people I wanted kept protected; you told me to make a list, and acted bored. I said that my second condition was that Michael would have to agree to have you destroyed. You didn’t think Michael would kill you; you didn’t realize that **I would. I did. Sorry, not sorry**._

_You were a complete piece of **shit** , Zach._

_Good riddance._

_Dean_

***

Dean wrote out an additional copy of each of the letters to Collette, Anna, and Balthazar, then recapped his pen, and went to find Cas. They needed to talk.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy. Such progress! 
> 
> Comments? :D
> 
> By the way, this thing really does just write itself. LOL 
> 
> There may yet be another update tonight. But please don't wait for it to comment! I don't know for sure that I'll post again, I just have a very clearly defined idea for the next chapter. ;)


	114. So, Is He, or Isn't He?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean notices something else odd, and talks to Cas about it, as well as about how he felt after the earlier conversation.

Dean found Cas reading a book on a couch in the movie room (or as Dean liked to call it, _The Fortress of Dean-a-tude_ ).

“Cas? May I speak with you?” he asked, quietly.

“Of course, Dean.” Cas sat up and set the book aside.

“I’ve been writing in my journal – an entry, and some additional letters. I made additional copies of three of the letters, and I’d appreciate it if you’d deliver them tomorrow.” Dean handed over the letters.

“Well, I can certainly give Balthazar his; that’s no problem. I don’t actually know if Anna was revived or not; she wasn’t particularly loyal to me. But I can ask around, and if she’s there, I’ll make sure she gets this.” Cas examined the name on the last letter for a moment. “Collette Mullen? Is that an angel, Dean?”

“No. That’s Cain’s wife. I thought someone should tell her that he’s at rest and free of the Mark, now.”

“Oh. I see. That’s thoughtful of you, Dean. I’ll get it to her. Is that all you needed to speak with me about?” Cas asked.

“No. It isn’t. One of the letters I wrote this evening was to Zachariah.”

“ _Zachariah?_ Why on earth would you write to _him_?” Cas’ confusion was evident.

“The letters aren’t necessarily to people I _like_ or care about. They’re to people who were _important_. Much as I hate Zachariah, he was important in my life at one time, his actions influenced me. Anyway, as I was writing it, I remembered something odd, just as I did when writing to Kevin, earlier today.”

Cas sighed.

“Look, Cas, could you _please_ just hear me out? Would it kill you _not_ to dismiss my thoughts before you’ve even heard them?” Dean wasn’t snapping; he sounded hurt. Cas took notice.

“I’m sorry, Dean. Of course, you’re right. Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“Thank you. At one point during the whole Zach mess, Chuck had a vision about Michael’s sword, and it was supposedly located at a storage facility in upstate New York, so he sent us there to try to get it. When Sam and I arrived, we found two dead demons, no sword (of course). Zach then told us that angels had implanted the vision into Chuck. Two things about that scenario seem odd to me, Cas.

"First, if Chuck is God, then he would have known that Michael’s ‘ _sword_ ’ wasn’t a tangible item; it was _me_ , his ‘true vessel.’ Why bother sending me and Sam to the storage facility at all?

"Second, if Chuck is God, how is it possible that _angels implanted a vision into his mind without him being **aware** of it?_

“Later, Sam and I ended up in Heaven, and we were captured, and about to be tortured by Zach, but Joshua intervened. He told Zach that he had to insist on being allowed to speak with us, on orders from ‘the Boss’ – _i.e._ , God. He said that Zach could ignore him, but eventually God would come home, and ‘you know how he is with that whole “wrath thing”.’ So, Zach and his two minions left, and Joshua took us to Heaven’s Garden. He confirmed to us that God talked to him, and that God was on Earth, somewhere, but he didn’t know where, and he didn’t know why.

“So, my suggestion is that you look for _Joshua_ , Cas. If he’s still up there, ask him to confirm that Chuck is, in fact, the God he’s been talking with for millennia. Just see what he says, man. If he says yes, then you’re right, I’m wrong. But if he _doesn’t_ know Chuck, then God is somewhere else, and Chuck isn’t who we need to be worrying about. Or, he _is_ who we need to be worrying about, but we don’t need to worry _as much_.”

Cas tilted his head to the right, listening, and his face got that look of serious contemplation that Dean knew all too well. When Dean finished speaking, Cas considered for a few moments, then nodded, slowly.

“All right, Dean. I don’t know if Joshua is still there, but I’ll ask for him.”

“Thank you, Cas.” Dean started to turn to walk away, but then turned back. But then he hesitated.

“Are you okay, my heart?” Cas asked.

“No, to be honest, I’m _not_ , Cas. Look, I know you’re busy and you have a lot on your mind. Honestly, I really don’t expect you to dance attendance on me, okay? I don’t. But when I was trying to talk to you earlier, about Kevin and Chuck, I got the impression that you were only just barely even listening to me, because your focus was elsewhere, on something else completely. It was like you weren’t taking me seriously at all.

"And then you said, specifically, that you were planning on going upstairs while I met with Mia, like you thought I needed _babysitting_ by a medical professional. I know I just had a pretty severe panic attack, and I’m not trying to take that lightly, Cas. But it felt like you were being a little condescending, treating me like a fragile, breakable toy, rather than your _partner_. One panic attack doesn’t render me incapable of rational thought on a permanent basis, okay?

“To give you credit where serious credit is due, I appreciate that you let me know what your plans were. You were really considerate, especially in offering to pass messages to people up there for me and Sam. You didn’t just go off on your own without letting us know where you’d be or what you’d be doing. And that’s real progress. So, thank you for that, Cas. I just didn’t like that it felt like you were being utterly dismissive of my ideas, without even really hearing me out about them.

“Our conversation earlier left me feeling all pissed-off and angsty, and I didn’t like it. I felt like I was justified in being a little upset with you. Now, a little upset is all it was, and normally it wouldn’t be that big a deal. But you and I just finally got together, and we’re in a pretty good place, for the most part, when I’m not busy being stupid, and I don’t want to be upset with you, not even just a little bit. I want everything to be good between us. I think we all need to be on the same page, together, in our thinking on our plans and strategies as we go up against Chuck. And if we’re doing even small things that upset each other, even just a little bit, that’s a crack in our foundation, Cas. And we need to be _solid_. So, it worries me.

“Now, I’m not freaking out. I’m not panicked. I’m perfectly calm, and willing to be rational and open to hearing your side of things. I just needed for you to know how I felt, because I didn’t want to feel like I was hiding something from you. I don’t ever want to feel like that. I did that to Sam for decades. I don’t want to shut you guys out anymore. And I’m gonna shut up now, because that’s all I needed to say.” Dean stared at the floor, and waited for Cas’ reaction.

Cas’ whole face slowly lit up with a big gummy happy brilliant smile. “You think I made progress, and you thanked me!”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean grinned back.

“Thank you, Dean. You noticed that I did something _right_. Your criticisms of the way I handled our earlier conversation are not entirely wrong, I could have handled that better. I wasn’t focused, I was dismissive, you’re right, and I shouldn’t do that to you. _Ever_. So, I apologize. But, the fact that you thought to give me credit while explaining to me how I’d made you feel seriously means the world to me, Dean. Really.” Cas wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Thank you for listening, Cas, and for apologizing. And for taking me seriously this time, when I asked you to speak with Joshua. It made me feel better.” Dean yawned widely.

“Tired, Dean?”

“A little, yeah. It’s been a long damn week, Cas.”

Cas got up from the couch and set the book down. He walked around the couch, and put his arm around Dean’s shoulder. “Well, I could use some rest, too. So, how about we go to bed?”

“To bed? Or to sleep?” Dean grinned.

“Well, we could start with one, and progress to the other… eventually,” Cas leaned over and kissed Dean’s cheek softly.

“So wise.”

“On occasion. When I remember to listen to my partner, my _heart_.”

“Are we trying ‘one new thing’ tonight?” Dean asked.

“I’d like to propose one,” Cas said.

“Okay, lay it on me, Cas.”

“Well, you’ve been inside _me_ , now. I’d kind of like to try being inside _you_. If you don’t mind.”

Dean’s brain stuttered. His mouth followed suit. “I-I-I d-d-don’t know, Cas. I mean. I guess. Ugh. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine, Dean. It was a bad id….”

“No! No. It wasn’t. It _wasn’t_ a bad idea, Cas. No. There’s no such thing, when it comes to you and I, okay? I just…I just needed a moment for my brain to catch up with the rest of me. Because the rest of me went tearing down the hall and jumped into bed. But my brain was… _frozen_. I’m just being stupid. And I’m babbling, and I have no idea why. I’m sorry. Just give me one second, okay?” Dean closed his eyes, and visibly made an effort to relax, including slowing his breathing. He re-opened his eyes.

“Okay. What I _meant_ to say, Cas, is that your idea makes me _nervous_ , but I would like to _try_. I’d like to see if we can turn nervous into _excited_. And I think we _can_ , if you would just have patience with me. Is that all right?”

Cas smiled softly. “That’s perfectly fine. And if it doesn’t work tonight, maybe it works some other time, and we don’t worry about it, we just do something else. I wasn’t trying to push you into anything you’re not ready to do, Dean. _You’re allowed to say no_.”

“I understand that, but I don’t _want_ to say no. It’s like I have 90% of my brain function fully online with wanting nothing more than to have you in me, Cas. But that other 10% is being stupid. Unfortunately, the stupid 10% is apparently closer to my mouth than the rest of my brain.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;D
> 
> Told you I'd update again tonight! :)
> 
> Comment, please? ;D


	115. Another New Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean try another new thing. Sam and Gabe go for a run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is decidedly NSFW, sorry (not sorry)!

In the end, Cas and Dean decided that the way that “one new thing” worked best was to start out with what they knew, and add in the new thing organically. So, they went their separate ways to get ready for bed, using the bathroom, brushing their teeth, putting on their pjs, etc., and then met back in their shared bedroom. Dean returned first, so he waited patiently, sitting on the edge of the bed. Cas came in, and locked the door behind him.

“Gabe,” they both said at once, and laughed.

“Although, he may be too busy to mess with us, Cas. I think he and Sammy are a thing.”

“You mentioned that they were holding hands during the movie the other day, but I was kind of keeping an eye out, and didn’t see anything unusual between them in the library,” Cas noted.

“Well, but they were working, and Shann was in there, too, wasn’t he?” Dean asked.

“True. It might have felt like too public a space, or too much like a workplace, to act on a new relationship.”

“Right, but that’s why I’m saying, if they’re not doing anything in _public_ , all the more reason to suspect they might be getting up to something in _private_. Hence why Gabe might be too busy to mess with us.”

Cas hummed in agreement as he sat down next to Dean. “Still. Better not to take a chance.”

“Right.” Dean trembled just a little.

“Still nervous, my heart? Or is it turning to excitement yet?” Cas asked, leaning over to kiss into the hollow of Dean’s throat.

“Maybe a little of each. Mmm.” Dean ran a hand into Cas’ hair, clutching it gently.

“How about we cuddle first, and let you get used to the feel of me next to you again?”

“Clothes on, or off?” Dean asked.

“How about shirts off, pants on, to start?”

“Perfect.” Dean relaxed visibly; this much was old territory by now. They each stripped off their pj shirts, tossing them on the floor.

Cas got up and walked around to “his side” of the bed, as Dean lay back on his side. Once down, they rolled to meet in the middle, and each huffed out a quiet laugh.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, softly.

“Hello, Castiel,” Dean said back. “I love you. I love you so damned much, Cas.”

“I love you, too.”

Dean reached out with one hand to cup Cas’ cheek gently, then ran it up into his hair to tug softly, smiling at his angel.

Cas reached out with one hand to skim softly along Dean’s side from his hip up to just below his armpit, then traced the same line back down to the hipbone. He repeated this a few times, and then, on the way down, went past the hipbone, and under the waistline of Dean’s pajama pants, skimming the pants down a bit, and leaving them there when he went back up, then came back down and went a little further. Dean smiled softly, and raised up a little so his pants would slide down more easily for Cas, and Cas smiled back, and slipped his fingers in under the waistline of the pants, taking them down over Dean’s hip, baring his hip on that side down to his thigh.

Dean leaned forward and kissed Cas lightly on the chin, moving his lips along Cas’ jaw up to just below his ear. Cas ducked his head and pressed another kiss into Dean’s neck, then began to suck on the skin, marking Dean gently. Dean moaned softly into Cas’ ear. He rolled back onto his back and pulled Cas up on top of him. Cas slid down a bit and began to kiss Dean’s abdomen, running his fingers into the pj pants and lowering them on the other side as well, baring both hipbones, but not going so low in the front as to make Dean more nervous… yet. Cas ran his tongue into Dean’s belly button, and Dean gasped, squirming.

Cas lifted his head, and whispered, “Lay still for me, love.” Then he resumed licking Dean’s skin, lapping gently at the belly button until Dean couldn’t help it, couldn’t stay still, began writhing, gasping softly in little hiccoughing sobs for breath.

“Cas… please.”

“Please what, my love? What would you like?” Cas lifted his head again, and grinned up at Dean. “Say it, and it’s yours. Say nothing, you get nothing but this.” He dipped his head and licked a stripe up Dean’s tummy, then softly blew cool air over the damp skin, making Dean’s hairs stand up. Dean shivered.

“I… I want….”

“Yes, my love?” Cas softly blew across the same strip of skin again. Dean whimpered softly.

“Oh, oh…. Cas…. Please. I… I want you….”

“You want me to do what, Dean?” Another gentle lick, followed by cool air blown softly through pursed lips.

“I want you to… finger me.” Dean’s face flushed bright red.

Cas hummed softly and slid up a bit to reach the nightstand drawer, where a small bottle of lubricant had recently taken up residence. He pulled it out and then slid back down. He licked another stripe, further to Dean’s right side than the last, and gently blew air across it. Dean shivered again. Cas pushed Dean’s pajama pants down to his knees and out of the way. He flicked open the bottle and spread some gel on a finger, and reached down to gently rub around Dean’s hole, all the while peppering kisses over Dean’s abdomen in an irregular pattern. Cas added a little more gel, and slid the finger in just a tiny bit, and Dean gasped, his hips rising involuntarily.

“Lay still for me, Dean.” Cas waited until Dean relaxed, then licked another stripe, this time to Dean’s left side, blowing softly over the wet, as the finger worked its way gently further in. Dean moaned softly.

“Cas, please… more….” Dean gasped out, and Cas smiled, softly pressing further in, then sliding out for more lubricant, and sliding all the way in. Dean cried out softly, trying to stay still.

“Relax, my heart.” Cas waited again. Dean licked his lips, took a deep breath in, and then visibly relaxed again as he let the breath out slowly. Cas then licked yet another stripe, just above Dean’s right hipbone, as the finger began to move slowly out, then back in, out, then in.

“Ohh, Cas. So… good. Please.”

“More? Say it, Dean.”

“Yes, please, more, Cas.”

“Of course, my heart.” Cas added lubricant and a second finger, and slid the fingers gently but inexorably in deep, searching for and finding that…one…little…spot….

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh.” The low-pitched gasp from Dean let Cas know the spot had, in fact, been found. Cas rotated his fingers into it again and again, and Dean couldn’t keep his hips still; they rose off the bed and swung with every movement of Cas’ fingers. Dean’s head was thrown back on the pillow, eyes closed, mouth slack; his fingers twisted in the blankets, seeking purchase and finding none.

Cas slid the fingers out. He added lubricant and a third finger, and slid them gently but determinedly back in, widening, stretching, then out, then in, twisting, finding the nerve bundle, pressing, then out, then in, widening, stretching, then out. Over. And over. Until Dean was desperately writhing again, simply unable to stay in place.

“Ohh, Cas. Ahhh, p-p-pleeeease,” Dean whined helplessly. “Need… need….”

“What do you need, my love? Say it, and it’s yours.”

“You. Need… you. Cas. Need. Ohhhh,” Dean panted softly.

“And you can have me, my heart. I’m right here.” Cas knelt between Dean’s legs and slid the pajama pants the rest of the way off of Dean’s legs, then quickly removed his own. He used a little more gel on his own hard length, spread a tad more around Dean’s hole, inside and out, then lined up, and pressed in gently, slowly. He’d done the prep work well, and Dean opened easily. He slid all the way in on the first try, and held very still.

“Oh, Cas. So. Ohhh. Jesus. So good. Ahhhh….”

Cas leaned forward, careful to keep his hips still, and kissed Dean gently. “Look at me, my love. Open your eyes.”

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and he slowly focused on Cas.

Cas kissed him again, then slowly sat back, pulling slowly out. “I love you, Dean. Now. Stay. _Still_.” He pushed back in.

Dean shuddered helplessly, staring into Cas’ eyes, twisting his fingers in the blanket viciously in an effort to be still, to be good, for Cas, for his angel.

Cas pulled out again. “I love you, Dean.” Back in, deep. Slowly, gently, carefully, but all the way in. Setting a _heartbreakingly_ slow and tender pace, with an “I love you, Dean,” each time he pulled out.

Dean moaned softly each time Cas pushed in, but never looked away, his eyes locked on Cas’.

“I love you, Dean. Say it back to me.”

“I love you, Cas, so much, oh, Christ, Cas, Cas, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please.”

“Please what, my heart?”

“I need… I want….”

“What? Say it, and it’s yours.”

“Touch me. Please, Cas, touch me. I need… to come…. Want to come… with you. Please.”

“Of course, my heart.” Cas spread a little more lubricant in one hand, and started to stroke Dean, keeping pace with his own deep thrusts. Slow, gentle. Inexorable. Inevitable. Obdurately calm and tranquil, yet relentless almost to the point of brutality, the pace kept Dean on a low buzzing simmer. Even with Cas stroking him, it wasn’t _enough_.

“Please, Cas. More. Faster, harder. Please.”

Cas smiled a tiny, almost triumphant, smile, as Dean _finally_ asked for what he wanted without prompting. He began to move faster, the stroking keeping pace with the thrusting. _In. Out. Up. Down._ Until Dean cried out and started spurting helplessly, gasping for breath, and Cas let himself go, falling forward onto his arms as he spent himself inside Dean. He leaned down and kissed Dean, just as he finally softened, and he pulled out carefully. He used a tiny bit of grace to search for any unintended wounds to be healed, and to clean them both up, so as not to have to get back out of bed. And then he let himself collapse next to Dean.

Dean rolled toward Cas, and slipped an arm around his waist. He whispered, “was that okay, Cas? I tried so hard to hold still for you.”

“So good. Perfect for me, always, baby. Hush now. Sleep, Dean. Rest.” Cas pulled the blankets up over both of them, and let himself drift a little.

***

Tuesday morning dawned cold, but crisp and sunny. Sam and Gabe went running shortly after sun-up. Despite the hand-holding and the occasional kiss, what might be between them had yet to _solidify_. Sam aimed to change that.

So, instead of his usual route, which would have taken them further away from town and out into the empty fields and trails of the countryside, Sam turned right (unintentionally following the route Cas had taken when he’d first left the bunker, all those weeks ago), and headed into town, taking the route he used to train for marathons.

“Gonna try for 35 miles this morning. You up for it, Gabe?” Sam asked, with a grin. Gabe quirked an eyebrow, but nodded, and followed along wordlessly, keeping up, despite Sam’s longer stride.

At this hour, the streets of Lebanon were largely empty of pedestrians and traffic. An occasional dog-walker might pass them, or a farmer in a flatbed might roll by. It was quiet. Peaceful. Just the repetitive thump of their feet hitting the pavement, and the huffing noises of their breath, steaming in the cold morning air.

By mile ten, Gabe felt itchy. He needed stimulation, noise, fireworks, sugar, color, _something!_ But he doggedly kept running after Sam.

Shortly after mile seventeen, they looped around to start toward home again. It was still quiet; the sun was a little higher in the sky, but, except for the 24-hour gas station and diner out by the highway that they’d passed on their way into town, nothing was open yet.

By mile twenty, Gabriel couldn’t _stand_ it. He saw an alley where there was a convenient wall that they were shortly going to run past, and he took Sam’s arm, pulled him into the alley, and shoved him up against the wall. He pulled Sam’s head down with one hand while using the other to keep Sam in place against the building, and he _slammed_ his mouth into a punishing kiss that knocked a gasping breath out of Sam. Suddenly, Sam was kissing him back and gathering Gabe up in a deep hug with both arms. Sam turned, and it was Gabe’s turn to have _his_ back flat against the wall.

Sam pulled back about an inch. He looked Gabe dead in the eye. “ ** _Mine_** ,” he growled softly, eyebrow raised as if to dare Gabe to disagree.

“Yours.” Gabe nodded once.

“I don’t share.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“ _I am in love with you, Gabriel_.”

“Right back atcha, Samshine.”

“ ** _Say it_**.”

“I’m in love with you, moose.”

“ _Gabe_.”

“ _I’m in love with you, Sam Winchester_.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

And with that, Sam let go of Gabe, and went back to running. Gabe resolutely followed, keeping up, taking three or even four steps in the time that Sam took two, determined not to fall behind.

_I will always keep up with you, Samshine._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem* *fans self* Well, then.... Um... Go Cas? LOL
> 
> Yeah, Sammy, that seems pretty solid, all right. ;)
> 
> Comments? ;D


	116. Plans and Recommendations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann gets a key to the Bunker. Shann, Sam, Gabe, Cas, Dean, and Jack have breakfast. Jack reports on his latest dream. Cas gets Sam and Dean's messages for the folks upstairs. Sam and Dean talk.

By the time Sam and Gabe returned from their run, Shann was waiting in the parking lot. Sam gave Shann his new key, and had him test it to be sure it worked. With the door unlocked, the three of them went inside and came down the iron stairs to the War Room, to find that Dean, Cas, and Jack had been busy setting out a breakfast buffet for everyone – French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, bagels and cream cheese, fruit salad (Cas’ contribution), fresh-squeezed orange juice (Jack’s contribution), and, _of course_ , coffee.

“Shann, you might as well just eat your meals with us, man. I always make too much, anyway,” Dean invited.

“Oh, thanks, Dean. I had one of those pre-packaged muffins from the gas station convenience store for breakfast this morning,” Shann confessed, getting a plate. “All I had time for.”

“Now, _that_ is a travesty. We eat _real_ baked goods, here. Don’t pay to eat that crap when you can get the good stuff here for free!” Gabe insisted. “I’ll make more muffins this morning, in fact.”

They all had things to do, so they ate quickly, with a light smattering of conversation. Shann finished first and took himself, and a second cup of coffee, off to the library to get started on his work for the day. Sam and Gabe cleared the table, as they hadn’t contributed to cooking or setting up, and got started on the dishes, Sam washing, Gabe drying.

Jack told Dean and Cas about the dream he’d had the day before, with the not terribly reassuring statement from Kelly that Cas would have to discover the meaning of “the light is the key” for himself.

“She said that some things can’t be _given_ , only _found_ , and that this was something you’d have to figure out for yourself, Dad.”

Cas thanked Jack for trying, and Jack gave him a hug, then went to his room to read.

Dean and Cas went into the kitchen to see if Sam and Gabe needed any help. They didn’t, so Dean and Cas sat down at the table to chat while Sam and Gabe finished up. Then Sam and Gabe joined them.

“Sam, while Dean is at his session with Mia today, I’m going up to Heaven to check on some things and do some research. Is there anyone you would like for me to check on, any message you want passed?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, um. Give mom a hug for me, please.” Sam smiled quickly, then ducked his head, a little too emotional. Gabe took his hand and squeezed gently.

“Dean? Anyone else besides the letters you gave me yesterday?” Cas asked.

“Well, that hug can be from both of us. And if you see Bobby, you can tell him I said hello.”

Cas nodded. “Will do.”

“Hey, Sam? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Dean asked.

Cas and Gabe smiled and left the room to give the brothers some space.

“What’s up, Dean?” Sam asked.

“Well, that’s actually what I was going to ask _you_. What’s up with you and Gabe, Sam? You asked my advice the other day, but I haven’t heard back from you about it since. I noticed you two were holding hands, so I figured you’d talked. I just need to know, Sam, do I welcome him to the family officially, or do I break his head?” Dean grinned. Sam knew it was only partially a joke.

“We’re together. Officially. As of this morning. About mile twenty of our run. You don’t really want _details_ , do you, Dean?” Sam flushed a little, but he looked calm and happy enough for Dean to be able to say….

“Nope. As long as you’re good. I just worry about you. Always will, Sam, can’t help it.”

“I know, D. It’s just how you’re built, at this point. I get it. How about you and Cas? You guys good?”

“Yeah. We’re good. I suspect _you_ don’t really want details, either, though.”

“Nope. I care that you’re okay and he’s okay, but beyond that would be like tuning in to _WTMI, Radio Way-Too-Much-Information_.”

Dean laughed. “That’s a good one.”

Sam grinned. “When were you thinking about heading back to Sioux Falls?”

“This weekend. Cas and I want to talk to Claire about us. I want to start working on the Salvage Yard and get someone in place as manager; Jody said she’d try to come up with some candidates for that.

"Sam, I’m thinking, we’ve got the garage here, and all those vintage cars we never use, would you mind if we started with those? I’d fix ‘em up and sell them at auction, and then start renovating the better cars in Bobby’s inventory, fixing one at a time there to the point where I could drive it back _here_ to work on further, until I had it in mint condition again. I'd fill the garage, and then have another auction. I’m thinking I could do an auction once every six months or so.

"But if you don’t want me to, or if you have something else in mind, let me know, Sammy. You own half of all of it, so if I’m letting my brain get ahead of me, just say.”

“God, no, Dean, that sounds _perfect_. It’s right up your alley, you know what to do. Maybe you should hire not just one, but a couple of guys on at the Yard, start getting some fresh inventory in – maybe not right away, but have an actual crew there, run it like it should be run.”

“You’d support that? It’d mean I’d have to be in South Dakota more. You wouldn’t mind holding down the fort here?”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t have plenty to do here. You’d be around, or available, even in Sioux Falls, if we caught a case. Neither of us will be alone; I assume Cas’d go with you to Sioux Falls, and Gabe will be here, with me. You’ve got Bobby’s house as a place to stay, or if you need to renovate that, you can always crash at Jody’s place, so it’s not like you need to spend money on motels, even. And even if you did, we’ve got it, now.

"Go for it, Dean. Knock yourself out, make Bobby proud, get Singer’s up and running again, like it should be.” Sam smiled at Dean.

“Make _Bobby_ proud? What about _you_?” Dean dropped his head.

“Dean. I’ve never _not_ been proud of you. I’ve told you before that you’re my _hero_ , Dean. I meant it then, and I mean it _now_. You’re the best man I know. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Shut up, man.” Sam gave Dean a quick, tight hug. “I may not say it enough, Dean, but you know I love you.”

“Yeah. I love you, too, Sam. I’m trying to be better about saying it more.”

“I know, though, even when you _don’t_ say it, Dean. Always have.”

Dean nodded. “I know you know, Sammy.”

“Have a good session, Dean. Let me know if you need to talk, after. Okay?” Sam peered at Dean, and poked his arm.

Dean smiled. “You know, Sam, I should really thank you. I don’t know why I ever resisted therapy. I felt like there was an awful weight pushing down on me all the time, and it’s almost gone, now. I mean, shit, we’ve both been through Hell, literally, and the feeling probably won’t ever go away completely. But talking about it helps, putting stuff down on paper really helps. I don’t know why I let everything get so bottled up.”

“Yeah, you _do_ know, Dean. And so do I: _Dad_. You weren’t _supposed_ to have feelings, Dean. You were supposed to just be his perfect little soldier. He didn’t pull that kind of crap with me nearly as much, and I fought back against it a lot more than you did, and I _still_ have trouble talking about my feelings. It has to be at least one hundred times worse for you. You’re _not_ imagining that, Dean. That’s not something Alastair did to you, or not all of it, anyway. That’s _Dad_.”

Dean nodded again. “Yeah. You’re right. I wrote Dad a letter, Sam, as part of my therapy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Reading it, it’s obvious how conflicted I am about him. I _love_ him, but I _hate_ him. I equally want to tell him to go fuck himself, and to give him a hug, have him hug me.

"I remember how he was before the fire, Sam. Not much, but _enough_.”

“Tell me.”

“He used to _laugh_. He’d pick me up and give me hugs, play with me, toss the ball in the yard with me. The day of the fire, he’d been away on a business trip, he came home early to surprise us, and he picked me up and teased me, made me laugh, gave me a hug. Made me feel _special_ , loved. I think that’s the last time I ever heard him laugh, Sam.”

“Oh, wow, Dean. You know, if I think back, yeah, I don’t think I remember _ever_ hearing Dad laugh. I can remember seeing him _smile_ , now and then. Remember when we met up with him, in Chicago, right after that whole thing with Meg? He had that room with the big kitchen? He smiled at us, hugged us, told us he’d missed us. I think that’s actually one of the best memories I have of the man.”

Dean gave Sam a hug. “Yeah. I remember that, Sam. That’s one of the few memories that stand out with singularity for me, one of the few that Alastair, for some reason, didn’t fuck with. It’s a good one.”

“Yeah.” Sam sniffled a bit. “Y’know what, Dean? Maybe I'll make an appointment with Mia, too. Couldn't hurt, right?”

“I think that’d be a good thing, Sam. She’s good. She’s _really_ good.” Dean looked at his watch. “And if I don’t get off my ass, I’m gonna be late, since I gotta take Cas to the playground before heading to my appointment.”

“Oh, right. The gate’s still in the sandbox, then?”

“Far’s I know, yeah.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress! Plans! The boys are with their respective angels, and all is right with their world...for the moment. :)
> 
> Comments?? ;)
> 
> By the way, if you hadn't yet noticed - there is now a separate version of this story with JUST the stuff about Dean's therapy. It will never have anything in it that is NOT already in this story (this one gets updated first), so if you don't want to follow both, you don't have to do so. 
> 
> I just thought it would be interesting to pull out of this story the stuff specific to Dean's therapy - the ultimatum, the sessions, the therapeutic writings, the relapse, etc. And once I'd done that, I thought others might like it, too, so I posted it as a separate work. So, there are a few conversational bits, but mostly it's the sessions, and the journaling/letter writing - without the 'white noise' of the rest of the story that's going on in the daily life of Dean and Sam. 
> 
> Check it out, if you like the therapy bits. ;) And feel free to comment on it, or not, as you like. If you want to just comment on the main story (this one), and not on that one, that's fine - it's literally the same stuff in both!


	117. Dean's Fourth Session With Mia, Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's fourth therapy session with Mia.

“Bye, Cas. Have fun storming the Pearly Gates!” Dean grinned.

“Have a good session, Dean,” Cas smiled, then leaned over in the front seat to kiss Dean’s cheek.

“I will. If you’re not back yet when I get here, I’ll just wait. Take as long as you need, Cas. Be careful. Don’t forget to see if Joshua’s still around. Are you still planning to bring Hannah back with you, to talk to Amara?”

“Yes. I think I might ask Balthazar to come, as well, if that’s all right. If I can get Inias to agree to run things for a bit. I think Balthazar will have good strategic ideas.”

“Okay. As long as he doesn’t unsink the Titanic again.”

“Ha. Okay, I’ll see you later, my heart.” Cas opened the door, and got out of the Impala. He walked over to the sandbox, waved to Dean, stepped into the sandbox, and vanished.

Dean shook his head.

_Who puts a gate to Heaven in a sandbox in a kids’ playground? Although, come to think of it, I’ve never seen any children here, ever. Hmm._

Dean shrugged. He put the car into reverse, backed out of the parking space, shifted to drive, and headed off to Mia’s office, a few blocks away.

***

“Hello, Dean. Come in, please,” Mia Vallens stepped back to allow Dean to enter her office. He stepped in, and she closed the door, then gestured with her hand. “Please, have a seat.”

Dean handed her his journal, then sat down on the couch.

“So, Dean, how was this week?”

“ _Busy_. I feel like I made progress, for the most part.”

“For the _most_ part? What about the _rest_?” Mia asked.

“I had a panic attack. It was pretty severe.”

Mia nodded. “I assume you wrote about that.”

“I did. I did a journal entry every day, and I wrote a bunch of letters. I don’t think I want to send most of them. I _can’t_ send some of them. But Cas went up to Heaven today, so I’m having him deliver copies of three of them.”

“Wait… Cas died?” Mia looked horrified.

“ _No!_ No. No. There’s a _gate_ , angels can pass through it whenever they want, as long as it’s open. Humans can’t, but angels can go back and forth. It’s not too far from here, actually; I dropped Cas off on my way here.”

“And he’ll be able to come back?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s technically in command up there, but he’s got other angels running the show when he’s not there. He wanted to check in, do a little research, talk to some other angels about stuff. He’ll be fine.”

Mia relaxed a bit. “Okay. I know Cas is important to you, so I was surprised when you seemed so nonchalant.”

“Heh. Yeah. No, really, it’s fine. He may even be back by the time I’m done here.”

“Okay. Well, let’s look at your journal, then? May I?”

“Of course.” Dean smiled.

“So, let’s see…. So, you didn’t rewrite the letter to Cas, you wrote another in addition. Okay, that works. Did Cas read the letters, Dean?”

“He did. I wrote about his reaction to them in a journal entry.”

“Okay. Oh, I see Sam read his letter, too. Aww, I’m glad to see that Sam is supportive of your relationship with Cas.”

“He is, yes.”

“That’s excellent.” Mia smiled.

Mia read through Wednesday’s journal entry. “Did Sam find an assistant?”

“Yeah, he hired a guy through a temp agency. That way, we don’t have to worry about handling payroll and whatever, they invoice us and we cut them a check, and they take care of everything. The guy’s pretty cool, too; his name is Shann. I don’t have all that much to do with him, but Sam says he’s a hard worker, and they get along.”

“Good. So, have you forgiven yourself for how you acted with Claire yet, Dean? You say here that she forgave you, and moved on, but you couldn’t forgive yourself. Why not?”

“Because, I should have known better than to _drink_. I shouldn’t have had as much as I had, I shouldn’t have had _any_. I should’ve stuck to water, and I knew it. But I drank to excess, and then I said things, did things, that upset Claire, and it doesn’t matter that she forgave me, I was _wrong_. It was self-destructive, and caused pain to someone I love. Cas, too, because upsetting Claire upset Cas.”

“Reading the letter to Claire, I think you understand yourself pretty well, Dean. You understand why you do the things you do, why you react as you do. And honestly, that makes my job much easier. It means you can then focus on taking the steps you need to take to _change_ your own motivations. And that’s good.”

“Knowing the _why_ doesn’t seem to make _changing the what_ any easier, to me, Mia.”

“Maybe not, Dean, but if you _didn’t_ understand why you did the things you do, we’d have to unravel _that_ , first. It lets us get straight to the heart of the matter. It may not seem easier to you, but I’ve watched a lot of patients struggle with the ‘why do I do these things?’ puzzle, Dean. You _know_ why. You just need the tools to change and do something _different_.

“I like the first paragraph of your Thursday journal entry. I like that you say here that snuggling with Cas made you ' _feel better than alcohol ever has_.' That’s a good motivation to keep snuggling, and not be drinking, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t had a drink since that night at Jody’s, and I’m not missing it. I know I _could_ relapse, Mia, and I’m taking that seriously, but Sam cleared the Bunker of alcohol – he said if he wants a beer, he’ll just go out for one – so I’m not being tempted. I realize that means that if I do end up in a situation where I’m tempted, it might make it harder to resist, but I really want to just have it be away from me, for the time being. I’ve got other things I need to deal with first, if that makes sense.”

“It does. I like that you recognize that temptation _could_ be a bigger problem later, that means your eyes are open to it. You have a support network, Dean. _Use it_.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mia kept reading. “Okay, so, explain to me about this Cosmic Entity waking angels up?”

“Right. When a demon or an angel dies, it goes to a place called ‘The Empty,’ which is controlled by a being called ‘The Cosmic Entity.’ Cas has died a few times; the first few times, he was resurrected by God, but the last time, Jack called out to him and woke him in The Empty. And then Cas annoyed The Cosmic Entity so much, that it sent him back to life. Well, apparently, in our little on-going fight with God, The Cosmic Entity has decided that it’s on our side. It sent Cas a message – ‘deal with God, so I don’t have to’ – and woke 300,000 angels who at various times have shown loyalty to Cas. Since God’s not in Heaven, and the entire contingent of angels currently in Heaven want Cas in charge, he is. But because Cas wants to be with me, he left an angel named Hannah in charge, and just brought Gabe and Jack back to Kansas.”

“Okay. Who are Gabe and Jack? I don’t believe you’ve told me about them before.”

“Oh, right. Well, _Gabe_ is the Archangel Gabriel. He’s also the Norse God, Loki, except not really. He was _pretending_ to be Loki, with Loki’s knowledge, in order to hide out from the Heavenly host. Gabe’s Sam’s guardian angel, and, as of this morning, the two of them are dating.”

“Whoa. Your brother is _dating_ the Archangel Gabriel?”

“Well, I’m dating the Seraph in command of Heaven. Why shouldn’t Sam date an Archangel?”

“Okay. You two _do_ live interesting lives. And _Jack?_ ” Mia asked.

“Jack is a Nephilim. Half-human, half-Archangel. His Archangel DNA comes from Lucifer. But even before he was born, Jack was heavily influenced by his kind and gentle mother, Kelly, and by Cas. He rejected Lucifer, and considers Cas to be his father. And for awhile, at least, he sort of, for lack of a better way to explain it, imprinted on me and Sam, and would call us ‘Dad’ as well. But now he seems to just be calling Cas ‘Dad’. Because he has a human soul as well as Archangel grace, Jack is extremely powerful, but he’s had problems in the past with his grace, and with his soul. Cas says that at the moment, both are fully charged, and he has so much energy, he practically bounces.”

Mia kept reading. “Ah, here’s where you wrote about Cas’ reaction to your letters to him.” Mia laughed, reading about the interaction between Gabe and Cas, then continued to read. “It’s good that you are supportive of Cas, in addition to allowing yourself to accept his support of you, Dean.”

“I like the way you put that, Mia. Cas has always been supportive of me, and you’re right, the difference now is that I’m allowing myself to _accept_ it.” Dean nodded.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROGRESS! More to come!
> 
> Please comment!!


	118. Dean's Fourth Session With Mia, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing Dean's 4th Session.

“So, it seems that maybe you have some issues with your sexuality, here, Dean. How do you identify yourself, as a sexual being, Dean?” Mia asked.

“Before Cas, I would have said I was _straight_ , no question. And it would have been a _big fat **lie**_. I’m _bisexual_ , and always have been. I’ve always been attracted to certain men. I just never let myself admit it. I don’t know if they’re true memories, or not, because of what Alastair did, but I remember my father as being a homophobic asshole. If those memories are correct, he’d _hate_ that I’m in this relationship with Cas, would probably _disown_ me because of it. Until Cas, I never met a guy that I wanted enough to risk my father’s disapproval.”

“And now?”

“And now, my father’s _dead_ , and even if he _wasn’t_ , I wouldn’t give Cas up. For one thing, I wouldn’t give Dad the _satisfaction_. For another, Cas makes me _happy_ , and my Dad never did, so _screw_ him and his homophobia. It’s _his_ problem, not mine. And if he disowned me over it, that’s _his_ loss.”

“Good for you, Dean.” Mia smiled. “In your Thursday morning journal entry, you seemed to be saying that you were afraid of being intimate with Cas. Am I reading that correctly?”

“Yes. It’s this whole big thing in my head. Like, if I let him in, if we have real true intimacy, I know it’s going to be good, _amazing_ , and I’m _never_ going to want to give it up, and _it scares the living shit out of me_ , because what if he leaves? What if we have this amazing relationship I know we can have, if we let ourselves, and I get used to it, and then he decides it’s not what he wants, and _so he goes?_ It’d _kill_ me, so I try to shut it down now, while it still lacks the power to have that big of an effect on me. S ** _elf-sabotage, 101_**. And Cas has been _so patient_. He _gets_ it. He gets _me_. So, we’re trying to build up to intimacy and sex slowly.”

“Ah. The ‘one new thing’ policy. I like it. That lets you take things slowly, lets you get used to being intimate at your own pace. Very smart of Cas…. Very good, you stopped yourself from accusing Cas of keeping things from you regarding his need for sleep, you asked Gabe instead. And Gabe rewarded you, I see. Welcomed you to the family. Wow.”

“Yeah. _Seriously_. Wow. Like, Cas isn’t an Archangel, he’s younger, but Gabe thinks the world of him, says that Cas is ‘the best of us’, meaning of all the angels, who all consider themselves to be siblings. I mean, technically every angel is a brother or a sister of every other angel. But there are, for lack of a better word, cliques. The four Archangels, Gabe, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael, they were the first created, and for a long time, it was just them, and God. And the four of them didn’t really, well, bond, I guess, with many of the rest of the celestial family. But Gabe and Cas, they clicked. And Lucifer and Cas, too. Cas was Lucifer’s vessel, for awhile. So, yeah, it felt like a really big deal when Gabe said that to me.”

“I bet.” Mia kept reading. “And here’s your letter to your father. I assume you _realize_ how conflicted you are about your father, yes?”

“Oh, _definitely_. If he were standing here right now, I honestly don’t know if I’d deck him or hug him, first. I’d probably get around to doing _both_ , eventually.”

“If he _could_ come back, if you could see him again, Dean. Would you _want_ to? Would you want to hear his side, have him explain things, have him confirm the ‘true’ memories for you? Or would you rather not?” Mia asked.

“I honestly don’t know, Mia. Sometimes I think of how great it would be if he were here, in that moment. And other times, I’m _glad_ he’s dead, because trying to live my life the way he expected me to, demanded of me, was _exhausting and painful_ , and I couldn’t keep doing it.”

Mia nodded. “And here’s your letter to Bobby. Much shorter. Do you think you said everything you needed to, Dean?”

“Yes. I did. I said everything I needed to say to Bobby while he was still alive to hear it.”

“Okay, then. That’s good. Moving on. Who’s Lisa?”

“Lisa is an ex-girlfriend. I had a one-night stand with her, a really long time ago. Nine years later, I tried to hook up with her to have another one-nighter, and I literally walked in on her son’s eighth birthday party. Kid’s like a little mini-me. Leather jacket, hard rock, likes classic cars and attractive women. Mia, I swear to you, _my jaw was on the floor_. I was convinced immediately that he was my kid. But Lisa denied it. Said she’d had testing done and that she’d been attracted to a ‘type’, there was a biker guy and Ben was _his_ kid, not mine. But I’ve never really been convinced; not sure why, exactly.”

“What did she use for your DNA?” Mia inquired.

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You show up nine years after a one-night stand to an eighth birthday party and your ex tells you she’s had testing done that proves the boy’s not your kid. What did she have of you, after just a one-night stand, that had enough of your DNA to get the testing done? What did she have of this biker guy, for that matter? _How’d she get testing done without a sample from either of you?_ ”

“Oh. **_Christ_**. _Nothing_. She had _nothing_ of mine. Mia, that means…. Mia, _Ben’s my kid_. Ben _is_ my son, I know he is.”

Mia nodded. “I would suspect so, Dean.”

“ ** _Shit_**. I had Cas erase their memories of me. They can’t be put back. That’s why I say in the letters to Lisa and Ben that I can’t send the letters to them – they wouldn’t know who I was, it would just confuse them.”

“You say here that your being in their lives made them unsafe. How, Dean?”

“I’m a hunter, one of the best, and one of the best known. I have _enemies_ , Mia. I never wanted to pull Lisa or Ben into the hunting life. They had a chance to stay clear of it, and I gave that to them. But it meant that I had to walk away. I can’t go back.”

Mia continued reading. “I like your letter to your mother, Dean. I’m a little confused here. You say that someone named Amara brought your mother back. Is that back from the dead? Who is Amara?”

“Amara is God’s sister. He’s the light, and she’s the darkness. He creates, she destroys. At some point, he locked her away to stop her from destroying his creations. He couldn’t kill her, and it took him and the four Archangels to manage locking her away. I, um… I kinda let her out.”

“Do I even want to know, Dean?”

“It’s a long story, so probably not right now. Short version: it was a spell. She got free, I helped her to reconcile with her brother, and she wanted to reward me, so she gave me back my mother.”

“Ah hah. And where is your mother _now_?”

“She died again. Jack killed her. It was an accident. He’s got so much power, and really he’s only about three years old, he doesn’t always have the best judgment regarding how to use it. Mom was pestering him – she does that when she thinks someone she loves isn’t taking care of themselves; she worries, and so she pesters and pokes – and he couldn’t handle it, and he told her to go away and leave him alone, and he killed her with a thought. Cas has confirmed that Mom and Dad are both in Heaven, together and happy – I think I mentioned that in my letter to Dad.”

Mia nodded again, and continued to read. “And here’s the letter to Ben. Well, Dean, I don’t see why you _couldn’t_ go to his graduation ceremony; if he has no memory of you, even if he saw you, he wouldn’t know you. What would it hurt?”

“Well, like I said, I have _enemies_. What if one of them was following me, and decided since they couldn’t figure out who I was there to see, they’d just kill _all_ of the kids? Things like that could _happen_ , there’s a real potential. So, it’s safer if I just stay away.”

“Tell me about Emma, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “I met her mother, Lydia, at a bar. She was gorgeous. Little black dress, black hair, beautiful. She was trolling, and decided she wanted me. So, we went back to her place, and we had a one-night stand. I would have been up for more than that, actually, but it was Lydia who insisted that we were done. I went back a few days later, in fact, trying for more, and she had a child, a three-year-old. She insisted that I leave. I guessed that I had misread the situation, that there must be a relationship I didn’t know about; maybe it was the kid’s father, maybe it was someone else, but she didn’t want me around, so, I left. A few days later, maybe twelve days after the one-night stand with Lydia, I’m in my motel room, Sam’s gone out. This young woman, looked about fifteen, sixteen years old, maybe, comes looking for me, says she’s my daughter, Emma. Says Lydia’s her mom.

“Now, I only met Lydia _for the first time_ less than two weeks before Emma came looking, so I’m thinking Emma overheard something she wasn’t meant to hear, and misunderstood. But then she explained. Lydia was an _Amazonian_. A race of all-female demi-Gods, they seek out human men with whom to procreate; all it takes is a one-night stand. The child is born within hours, and within a few days, grows to adulthood. The girls are then trained to become merciless mercenary killers, and their final exam is to seek out their fathers, and kill them.

“Emma told me she didn’t like what they’d told her, she didn’t want to be what they wanted of her, and she didn’t want to kill me. But she’d brought a knife. Now, I wasn’t afraid of a knife in the hands of a less-than-two-week-old child, no matter how grown she looked to be, plus, I had a gun of my own. And every Harrison Ford fan knows….”

“ _Never bring a knife to a gun fight._ ” Mia smiled.

“ _Exactly_. So, I tried to get her to put the knife down, to reason with her. Told her that I would love to get to know her properly, to be her father in truth, as well as in terms of genetic material. And I think she was listening, but she still had the knife up, and Sam came back. The door was cracked, and he saw her, thought she was threatening me. I put my gun down, trying to get her to relax, but he thought I was surrendering. He came in, and shot her. He killed her, Mia, with just one shot. His own niece. My daughter.”

“Reading the Friday evening entry, you mention ‘the Amy Pond incident’ being related to Emma’s death. Tell me about that, Dean.”

“Amy Pond was a kitsune. She was a friend of Sam’s at some point in high school; I think he may even have had a crush on her. Anyway, a few weeks before I hooked up with Lydia, Emma’s mother, Sam had reconnected with Amy on a case. She was the source of the mysterious deaths. She herself was working as a mortician, and she’d been feeding from corpses, not killing anyone, for a long time. But she had a son, and he’d been ill, and needed ‘fresh’ food. So she’d killed four people to feed him, and now he was fine, and she swore she’d kill no one else. So, Sam went along, and let her live. But when he told me about it, I basically turned into _Dad_ , said she was a monster, couldn’t be trusted, he should have killed her. And when Sam refused to go back and do the job, _I did it, instead_. I killed her. And when Sam killed Emma, he was protecting me, yes; but he was also taking his _revenge_ for my having killed Amy. As I say in the journal entry, it’s the one thing we never speak to each other about, because I’m still so angry with Sam about it. Which probably means I should, huh?”

“Not if you don’t want to, Dean.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More progress!
> 
> Comments? :)


	119. Dean's Fourth Session With Mia, Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the session....

“Huh. I was _sure_ you’d tell me I had to talk to Sam about Emma.”

“No. I don’t think you’re _ready_ to talk to Sam about Emma, Dean. You might _never_ be ready for that. And that’s _okay_. Remember during your first session, I told you to give yourself _permission_ to be angry with your father? Give yourself _permission_ to be angry with _Sam_ , Dean. I don’t think you have to forgive _everyone_ for everything. You still _love_ Sam. You always will. Being angry with him won’t _change_ that. But having a _confrontation_ over it, might. I think you need your relationship with Sam more than you need to have that fight. So, give yourself permission to feel the anger, and let it out, and let it go, and skip the confrontation.”

“Huh. Wow. That is _not_ what I expected you to say, Mia, but that makes _sense_.”

Mia smiled softly. “If I always said what you expected, Dean, why would you need me?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Fair enough.”

“You say here that Lucifer wants to stop being the bad guy, now that’s he’s no longer bears the Mark of Cain; that he had it even while Cain and you had it, but now it’s gone and it’s no longer corrupting him. You had the _Mark of Cain_ , Dean? Tell me about that.”

“Well, it’s really better called the Mark of Darkness. Originally, it was a birthmark on Amara’s shoulder. When God locked her away, he tore that section of skin off and fused the birthmark onto Lucifer’s arm, and that was the key to her holding cell. It turned Lucifer dark, corrupted him. Then Lucifer passed that mark to Cain, but couldn’t remove it from himself. When Cain died, he was immediately reborn as a demon, and Lucifer make him a Knight of Hell. Eventually, Cain passed the mark to me. I resisted for awhile, but gave in, and died, and was reborn as a demon. Sam cured me with consecrated blood, but I still bore the mark. So, we had Rowena, a witch friend of ours, cast a spell to remove it. And in so doing, we freed Amara from her prison.”

Mia kept reading. “You dreamt of Alastair. This dream sounds _horrible_ , Dean.”

“It really was. It was _awful_. Thank heavens for Cas, because he brought me back.”

“And you say here that Cas said he wanted to go to Wyoming to get his stuff, so he could come home to you. That’s _lovely_ , Dean.”

Dean nodded.

“And then on Saturday morning, you write that you and Cas made love, and it was the healthiest sex you’ve ever had. I assume you mean from a mental health standpoint?”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned.

Mia continued to read. “And here’s a letter to someone named Jo. Tell me about Jo, Dean.”

“Jo was like a sister. We might have had a thing, but she saw right through me. She was tough as nails, a fighter, she could hold her own, hold her liquor, but she was also sweet and kind and gentle when appropriate. The only time I ever got to kiss her was after a Hellhound got her, right before she died. She saved me from it, and it killed her.”

“And Ellen?”

“Ellen was Jo’s mama. She ran this hunter bar, called The Roadhouse. He husband was a hunter, used to hunt with Dad sometimes. She was a little prickly sometimes, but she was warm and welcoming, and she was family.”

“And Charlie?”

“Charlie was a hacker, she helped us take down Dick Roman – you might remember him, big corporate guy, thought he might run for president at some point? – she was like a little sister to Sam and I. She died soon after I got the Mark of Cain. I used it to kill the family that killed her, the Stynes.”

“And Cassie?”

“Cassie Robinson. She was my first-ever real, long-term relationship. I thought I loved her, I really did. She was in college, and she was amazing. So, I told her the truth. I wasn’t just going around the country with Dad, working construction. We were hunters of supernatural creatures, trying to get revenge on the thing that had killed my mother. And she thought I was _insane_ , and broke up with me. And then a ghost tried to kill her father, and she needed help, so she called me.”

“I’m glad that you see _now_ the difference between lust and affection, on the one hand, and true, real love, on the other.”

“Night and day difference, Mia. Night and fucking day.” Dean nodded.

“We talked about Donna last session. I like this letter to her. Are you planning to send this one, Dean?”

“Yeah. Donna deserves an explanation of some of my crap.”

Mia laughed. “Okay. I like your letter to Alex, too. How about this one, Dean? Sending?”

“Yeah.”

“Good…. We talked about Adam before, as well. Did this letter help you resolve your feelings about your half-brother, Dean?”

“Not really.”

Mida nodded. “Lot to take in, finding out that you had a brother you never knew until after he’d died.”

“Yeah. I really don’t even know all that much about him, even.”

Mia looked at Dean intently for a moment, nodded, and continued reading. “You say here you were startled by your own reflection because you looked better than you had in a long time, and you think it’s because you’re happy.”

“I know it is.”

Mia smiled, and kept reading, and frowned. “Oh, dear. Sunday morning.”

“Yeah. That’s the journal entry where I spiraled down again.” Dean looked uncomfortable.

Mia hooted out a laugh.

“The bit where I’m talking to myself? Yeah, I knew you’d laugh.” Dean grinned, but still looked uncomfortable.

“You say here at the end that you _can’t breathe_ ; I assume that was the start of the panic attack?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Dean. I assume that you’ve already thought of all the things that you did wrong here. I want you to tell me what you did _right_.”

Dean looked blankly at her. “I… um… honestly, I have no clue.”

Mia smiled. “Yes you do, Dean. _You wrote it down, even._ You said that you _caught_ it, and you apologized for your behavior the night before. _That was really good_. Yes, you spiraled, but you didn’t spiral about _sniping at Cas_. You didn’t spiral due to the one single thing you were most concerned about when you first came to see me – _your anger issues_. You spiraled because you were afraid of pushing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you – _Cas_. Dean, you cannot control Cas. He’s his own person. If he decides to go, you can’t stop him from leaving, and that _terrifies_ you. He tells you he won’t go, and _intellectually_ , you believe that he means it. But _emotionally_ , you’re still that terrified four-year-old, running from a house fire with your brother in your arms, not understanding where your mother went and why she won’t come back.”

“It’s _abandonment_ issues, not _anger_ issues. I thought I had dealt with them, but I guess not.”

Mia nodded. “Your _fear of abandonment_ is **_much_ **more deeply seated than your _anger_ , Dean. It goes back farther in your life, and it is _much_ more foundational. And it makes perfect sense, Dean. Think about how many people you’ve lost. Your father moved you constantly. You were barely in school, got held back two years because you’d missed so much. How many _teachers_ did you have to leave, Dean? How many _friends_ did you make, and have to lose?”

Tears streamed down Dean’s face. “Christ, Mia, _everyone_. Everyone leaves. Even Sam has left, a couple of times.”

Mia nodded again. “No one has ever been allowed to be a _constant_ in your life, Dean. _Every single point of contact_ has been taken from you, at one time or another. So, when you sniped at Cas, you were pushing him away in self-sabotage, but you caught that mistake, and owned it. But when you spiraled out of control, it was because you were afraid that _it didn’t matter if you pushed_ , you were afraid that you couldn’t **_control_ **his reaction, or the relationship, enough to keep him with you, and became certain that he would go. That your self-sabotage would work. _It’s the lack of **control** that you fear_, Dean.

“That said, it seems you got it under control fairly quickly. By late afternoon, you were talking about taking care of Cas. Nice recovery, Dean.”

“Well, he flew back. It made worrying about losing him at some point in the vague far off future seem ridiculous.”

“Exactly. Dean, Cas has been with you, through thick and thin, for what, eleven years? I think you can count on him sticking around in the future, too.”

Mia handed Dean the box of tissues, and he mopped up his face, and blew his nose. Mia kept reading.

“Who’s Donatello, Dean?”

“He’s the current Prophet of the Lord. There’s always only one at a time. The first one I met was Chuck, then Kevin, then Donatello.”

“Are you sending this letter, Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“I like your letter to Rufus, Dean. I assume that he’s passed away?”

“Yeah.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And still MORE progress. :)
> 
> Comments???


	120. Dean's Fourth Session With Mia, Pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the session....

“Tell me about Bela, Dean.”

“Bela Talbot. She was _hot_. And I _liked_ her, too, except she kept stealing from us and fucking us over. She was a trader of supernatural antiquities; she’d find them, find someone who wanted them, and sell them to the highest bidder. And she kept getting in the way of our cases.

“What I didn’t know then, but only found out later, when I was torturing souls in Hell, was the reason _why_ she’d become a trader. Her parents had abused her when she was a child; her father used her, horribly – sexual and other physical abuse, emotional abuse, you name it. Her mother heaped emotional abuse on her, too. So, when a crossroads demon came to Bela and offered her a way out of the situation, she took it. Her parents were killed, and it was made to look like an accident. She got the life insurance, plus her inheritance. She was given ten years. She was just thirteen when she made the deal.

“When Sammy and I met her, she was twenty-two, and she only had about nine months left, and she was _desperately_ looking for a way to get out of her contract, to escape the Hellhound she knew would be coming for her. But she didn’t _tell_ us that. If she had, Mia, I _swear_ , I would have tried to help her. But I didn’t know, and I didn’t try to help; in fact, I made things _worse_. I was horrible to her. She called me about ten minutes before she died, and I _laughed_ at her, mocked her. _I didn’t know!_ There was nothing I could do, not for her, and not for myself, when my time came.”

Mia nodded. “Tell me about Amelia and Jimmy, Dean.”

“Jimmy Novak. That’s the man whose body Cas uses now.”

“Cas’ vessel.”

“Well, he _was_. When Lucifer was using Sam as his vessel, Cas threw a flaming grenade at Michael in Adam’s body. It killed Adam and Michael. Then Lucifer killed Cas, and Jimmy. Then God resurrected Michael and Cas in Adam and Jimmy’s bodies, but _without_ Adam and Jimmy – their souls went straight to Heaven. Cas has died a few times; he just keeps coming back in the same body. At this point, that body is Cas’ now. Jimmy has no further use for it, and Cas is accustomed to it. He could be in a female vessel – he was, briefly, in the body of Jimmy’s daughter, Claire – but the body he’s in just suits him.” Dean shrugged.

“Jimmy’s hot. Anyway, _Amelia_ was Jimmy’s wife – Claire’s mother. She died. We rescued her from a Grigori that had been feeding on her, but she was too weak to survive for very long; just long enough to say goodbye to Claire, really.

"Jimmy prayed to be used as an angel’s vessel, and Cas chose him because he needed one right around that same time – it was just after Cas rescued me from Hell, and he couldn’t communicate without a vessel. If Cas hadn’t chosen him, some other angel would have, and they wouldn’t have been as nice to Jimmy, or as good to Claire.”

“And then there’s a _second_ letter to Amelia?”

“Different Amelia. That’s an ex-girlfriend of Sam’s. I went to Purgatory for a year – another long story – and when I came back, I found out that Sam hadn’t even looked for me. To be fair, I told him _not_ to look for me, and he didn’t know where I’d gone, but when has a logical reason for something ever kept _me_ from being pissy? Anyway, he accidentally hit a dog with his car. He felt horrible, so he took it to the vet clinic. Amelia Richardson was the vet on duty; her husband was MIA in Afghanistan, and was believed to be dead. She and Sam ended up having a relationship, and Sammy adopted the dog, too. He always wanted a dog, growing up, but of course, we were always on the road, he couldn’t have one. So he adopted this silly mutt, named it Riot. Then I came back. Around the same time, Amelia’s husband came back from being MIA. Sam wanted the decision to be hers, and hers alone, so he left her. She went back to her husband. Sam came back to hunting. He still loves her, he’s just got a lot of honor.” Dean took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Not sending that one.”

Mia nodded again. “Got it. And Becky?”

“Becky Rosen. I mentioned that the first prophet I met was Chuck; he writes under the pseudonym Carver Edlund.”

“Oh, the _Supernatural_ books? I love them.” Mia grinned.

“You’ve read… How many of them have you read?”

“All of them.”

Dean scrubbed his hand through his hair, and down over his face. “Mia, why do you make me tell you things when you’ve read about them already?”

“Because you tell the story from an entirely different perspective, Dean: _yours_. Chuck leaves out a lot of details, and he doesn’t always understand your motivations, or Sam’s. I don’t use the books to analyze you, Dean. I use what you tell me, and what you write, not what Chuck wrote. So, Becky?”

“Sam and I met Becky at a convention of fans of the books. We were there because of a haunting. Becky was a _superfan_. She was in love with the Sam in the books. As you noted, Chuck leaves out a lot of details, but she assumed that she knew Sam, that there was a deep connection between herself and Sam. She was a lot obsessive, and a little weird.

“Later on, Sam met Becky again, in Las Vegas. She fed him a love potion that she got from a demon who had possessed a wiccan. She used the love potion to get Sam to marry her, and take her to a cabin on honeymoon. Then she ran out of potion, and Sam started to come out of it, so she knocked him out and tied him to the bed while she tried to get more. Eventually, he got out of the situation, and the marriage – they had it annulled. Now she’s married to someone else, with two kids. Not sending that one, either.”

“Got it. Ah, and here’s a letter to Gabriel. I like the advice you gave to Sam. And for the most part I think this is sweet. But what’s this about Gabriel _killing_ you over 120 times? What’s that all about? I thought Gabriel _liked_ you? I’m confused.”

“Oh, Gabe does like me, now. And I like him. He’s great. But way back when, Gabe was trying to get Sam ready for the Apocalypse, and what he would lose. So, he basically put Sammy in a time loop, like Bill Murray, in the movie _Groundhog Day_. And every day, at some point in the day, I got killed. For about 120 days. Sammy finally figured it out, and got Gabe to knock it off. And now, with all of that behind us, it’s funnier than it was then, so now it’s kind of a joke that I put it in there. Gabe’ll get it. Sending that one.” Dean grinned.

“Okay. Tell me about Crowley and Rowena?”

“Crowley was born Fergus MacLeod. He was Rowena’s son, but she thought love makes one weak, and refused to love the boy. She was a witch – a powerful one – and she abandoned Fergus at the age of nine and traveled around, seeking ways to become stronger. Fergus ended up making a deal with a crossroads demon; he _says_ it was to get a penile extension, but who knows if that’s really true. Anyway, he went to Hell, and eventually became the King downstairs. Occasionally, it was in his interest to help me and Sam, occasionally, it wasn’t. But eventually, we all ended up in an alternate reality where Michael had won the Apocalypse, and it was every bit as bad as Lucifer winning had been foretold to be, and Crowley sacrificed himself – literally stabbed himself with an angel blade – to save _us_. Rowena eventually did the same; technically, Sam killed her, but he just held the knife still while she walked into it, in order to activate a spell that collected the souls that had escaped from Hell when Chuck opened the rift in Stull Cemetery. And then she fell into Hell and sealed the rift, and saved us all.”

“You mention a Gavin. Who’s that?” Mia asked.

“Crowley’s son. He came forward in time. Crowley and Rowena got to spend some time with him; then he had to be sent back to his own time, to die. He knew he was going back to die, and he was very brave about it. All three of them, among the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

“And then you started a letter to Kevin, but after two sentences, it stops, and you wrote a journal entry, instead. Tell me about that, Dean.”

“I started writing to Kevin, and then I remembered something. I thought it could be important, for the fight against Chuck, so I went to tell Cas, but he just blew me off. So I got a little pissy. It’s all in the journal entry. Anyway, we talked about it, later on last night, and we’re okay now.”

“In your journal entry, you pose a question to me about your homework. I think what you’ve been doing is helping tremendously. It helps me to get a feel for who you are, and who the important people in your life are, and how you feel about them. You write about your progress and your setbacks, both, with remarkable clarity and insight, Dean. You understand your own motivations and most of the time, I think just writing it down helps you to figure it out. Do you agree?”

“I do.” Dean nodded. “It really helps to write things out. I know after I wrote that journal entry, when I talked to Cas, it helped, because I already knew what I wanted to say – it was like the entry was my script, and I could ‘read’ from it, even though I didn’t have it with me.”

“That’s good, Dean. Communication is essential to a good relationship, so if you have time, and you can think out and write down what you want to say, it helps you to communicate. Just remember, you have to actually _say the words_ , too.” Mia smiled.

“Yeah. That’s the hard part.” Dean smiled back.

“Okay, so you finished the letter to Kevin. And then there’s a letter to someone named Ruby. Tell me about that, Dean.”

“Oh, _that bitch_. Sorry, but she _was_. She was a demon. She worked directly for Lilith, but no one but her and Lilith knew that; everyone else thought she worked for Azazel. Sam thought that she had been working for Azazel, but that she’d had second thoughts about bringing about the Apocalypse, and wanted to help Sam stop it. In fact, she was trying to get him to bring it on. It turned out that killing Lilith was the final seal that had to be broken to free Lucifer. Lilith wanted her master freed, and was willing to die to achieve it. So, she sent Ruby to get her hooks into Sam and manipulate Sam into being strong enough and willing to kill Lilith. And it worked. Azazel had fed demon blood to Sam as a baby, just a taste, to awaken his otherwise dormant psychic powers. Ruby fed him demon blood by opening her vein and giving it to him to suck, while she fucked him to make the taste more palatable. She fed it to him by the gallon, and trained him to use his psychic power to kill demons to take it from. He first learned to exorcise them with his mind, then kill them and send them to The Empty with his mind. He killed Lilith. Then Ruby told him the truth, as the floor was cracking open to release Lucifer from The Cage. Sam tried to kill Ruby, but he had used up all his power on Lilith. So, he held her still, and I killed Ruby with her own demon-killing knife.”

“And Meg?”

“Another demon. But Meg was different. She was one of Azazel’s, too, but I think he maybe pulled her out of the Pit too soon, because she retained a lot of her humanity – unlike most demons, she could still remember back to when she’d been alive, being human and what it was like. Like I say in the letter, she redeemed herself.”

Mia nodded.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of therapeutic writing to go through. One more after this! ;)
> 
> Please comment!! ;)


	121. Dean's Fourth Session With Mia, Pt. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finishes his session with Mia and is surprised to learn that his sessions have each taken longer than the 1 hour Mia charges for. He's late to pick up Cas, who's waiting alone at the playground.

“And Anna?”

“Anna was an angel, originally named _Anael_. She was actually Cas’ commanding officer in his garrison for a long time, but she rebelled, and fell to Earth, and got separated from her grace on the way down. She was reborn as a human as a result, and was adopted by the Milton family. But when she was a teenager, she started hearing voices in her head. It was Angel Radio, but she didn’t know that, and she couldn’t turn it off or tune it out, and what the angels were saying scared her, so she committed herself for psychiatric treatment. She checked herself out shortly before I got out of Hell. The rest of the important stuff is in the letter. It’s one of three I made copies of, to have Cas deliver, if possible; neither he nor I know if she’s in Heaven. He wasn’t sure if she had been particularly loyal to him, enough that The Cosmic Entity would have awakened her and sent her back to help us.”

“And Balthazar?”

“Balthazar also served in Cas’ garrison, under Cas, for a long time. At one point, he collected a bunch of Heaven’s weapons, and hid them, and when Cas was fighting with Raphael for control of Heaven – Cas won, obviously – Balth got him the weapons cache by sending Sam and I as a lure to an alternate reality, hoping that Raph and his goon, Virgil, would chase us there; they did. Cas pulled us back, and Raph and Virgil were stuck there for a while. But it was always kind of hard for Sam and I to tell where Balth stood, whether he was on Cas’ side, or not. So, it was nice to know that The Cosmic Entity sent him back, as being loyal to Cas.”

“Tell me about Benny, Dean.”

“Benny’s one of my all-time best friends. You’d love him, Mia. He’s a sweet old Southern Cajun Creole boy, from Orleans parish, Louisiana. He was a vampire, but he didn’t kill humans; he either drank small animals, or got human blood from blood banks. He had been killed by some other vamps, and when I went to Purgatory, he was already there. He knew that there was a rift that went from Purgatory back to Earth, that would open when a human came near, and he knew where it could be found. He offered to lead me to it, show me how it worked. I insisted on finding Cas, so it took us a lot longer than it should. And Cas was on the run from some Leviathans, so it made it more dangerous than it would have, as well. Benny would, once in a while, calmly explain to me why looking for Cas, or having Cas with us, was a bad idea, but he never tried to stop me from bringing Cas with us, beyond that. He only asked one thing – that I take his soul with us when we left, carried in my flesh, and that I take it back to where his body had been buried, and bring him back. So, I did.

“Later, during the Trials, we had to free an innocent man’s soul from Hell. We found out that Bobby had gone downstairs, and that there was a way to get him out. We enlisted the aid of a rogue reaper, named Ajay, to ferry Sam into Hell and back out again. Ajay got Sam into Hell, by going through Purgatory; he told Sam how to get back out of Hell with Bobby’s soul, but said he’d meet up with him to get them out of Purgatory. But Crowley wanted Bobby in Hell, and so he killed Ajay before he could go back for them. When I found out that Ajay had been killed, I asked Benny for a favor. He knew immediately what I wanted, and he just laid down his life, let me kill him and send him back to Purgatory, got Sam out for me, and refused to come with Sam because there were three vamps on their trail – he stayed to make it possible for Sam to get out. I assume he’s still there; if he’d gotten out somehow, he would’ve let me know.”

“Okay, and then you have a letter to… Cain. Which, from things you’ve said, I assume is actually _the Cain_ , from the Bible.”

“Yep. That’s him.”

“You say here that he resisted the Mark. Tell me about that.”

“Sometime in the mid-1800s, not sure exactly when, he fell in love with a woman named Collette Mullen. She saw past the demon, past the legend, past the Bible, and saw the good man underneath. She loved him, and she married him. And because of her, he was able to resist the urging of the Mark upon his skin, and killed no one for over 150 years. And then I came along. He gave me the Mark, but that didn’t free him from its influence. And as I was leaving his property to go and kill Abaddon, the only other remaining Knight of Hell, demons descended upon his house, and he brought them all inside, and killed them all as I left. I know that, because later, I had to kill him. He thanked me for doing it. And, as I say in the letter, Amara told Cas that the Mark has been completely destroyed now, so Cain should be free of its influence, and hopefully he’s at peace, as well as at rest.”

“Amazing what a good relationship can do, isn’t it, Dean?” Mia grinned at him. He grinned back.

“I can’t send the letter to Cain, obviously, but I made a copy of the letter that I wrote to Collette, and had Cas take it with him up to Heaven to be delivered. I thought someone ought to let her know that the Mark is finally gone.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet, Dean. And then the last thing here, or so it appears, is a letter to Zachariah. Who’s that, Dean?”

“Zachariah was an angel; in fact, he was Cas’ direct superior, after Anael fell and became Anna Milton. Zach was Team Michael, all the way, and he was determined to get me to say ‘yes’ to Michael, no matter what he had to do, who he had to hurt or manipulate. He was an utter bastard. Most of what he did is in that letter.”

Mia nodded. “Okay. So, who’s left to write to, Dean?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t write to Alastair, but I don’t _want_ to. He’s important, but I don’t want to give him any more power over me by acknowledging that, y’know?”

“I agree, Dean, that writing to Alastair would be counter-productive.

"Well, let’s leave it at this – if you think of someone you think _needs_ to be written to, _write_. Otherwise, let’s keep to the daily journal entries about current events, you can write about past events if you think they have relevance.

"And, I want you to write a letter to _yourself_. One each day, starting this evening, to your past self, at different ages, about what you were going through at that age. And next Tuesday morning, before you come here, write to yourself in the _present_ , about what you’re going through _now_ , what your plans are for the _future_. That should give you plenty to write about.”

“Yeah. Sounds good. We might need to block out a session of longer than an hour.” Dean grinned.

“Dean, if you hadn’t noticed, you’ve been here for _**three hours** for each of our sessions so far_. I’m not seeing anyone but you on Tuesday afternoons for the time being. I’m only charging for the first hour, but you’ve clearly needed more time.”

Dean startled at that. “What? No way.” He pulled out his cell phone, and, sure enough, he’d arrived at noon, and it was just before 3:00. “I told Cas I’d pick him up in an _hour_.”

“Well, call him. See you next week, Dean.”

***

Dean walked out to the Impala, dialing Cas’ cell phone. He got in the car just as it started to ring – a good sign, as it meant the phone, at least, was on Earth.

“Hello, Dean. Good session?”

“Hey, I hope you haven’t been waiting long, we just got done. I had no idea it was taking us as long as it did.”

“No worries, Dean. Sam said your sessions were running really long, so I figured this one would, as well.”

“All right, well, I’m on my way, be there in about five minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

***

Dean pulled in to the playground’s parking lot, and looked around for Cas, finding him on the swing. He saw that Cas had seen him, and was heading his way, so he rolled down the window and waved. Cas waved back, and smiled. Cas got to the car, opened the door, and slid in, leaning over to give Dean a quick kiss on the cheek.

“No Hannah? No Balthazar?”

“Oh, no, they came down with me, but they went to Reno to find Amara. They weren’t coming back to the Bunker anyway, not until they’ve spoken to her. Inias is in charge upstairs for now.”

Cas handed Dean back the letter to Anna. “I’m afraid she’s not up there, Dean. She wasn’t brought back. I did give your letters to Balthazar and Collette Mullen. Mrs. Mullen said to thank you from the bottom of her heart.”

Dean smiled. “How’s Mom?”

“Happy. I gave her the hug from you and Sam, and added one from me and Gabe. I told her, but not John; I didn’t know if you wanted him to know about us, or if Sam would want John to know about him and Gabe, but I knew you’d want Mary to know.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t care if Dad knows. If he says something negative, I don’t care. It’s _our_ life, Cas, yours and mine, and I will _not_ let a homophobic asshole dictate how we choose to live. And if he _didn’t_ react that way, then it’d be fine, but either way, it just doesn’t _matter_ what he thinks.”

“Okay. Then do me a favor?”

“What?”

“ _Unclench your jaw_.”

Dean pulled over and parked the car. He dropped his head, and took a few long deep breaths, in and out. And then his shoulders slumped and he visibly relaxed, and his jaw unclenched. Cas smiled.

“Better, my heart?”

“Thanks, Angel.”

Cas reached over and took Dean’s hand and just held it, gently. Dean looked over, and smiled softly at Cas.

“Okay, Angel. C’mon, let’s go home and see if we can snag a muffin from Gabe.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so much progress, it took five chapters! ;)
> 
> Comments? :)


	122. Delusions and Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck thinks he has the perfect answer. Kathy calls Cas. Amara agrees to be Switzerland. Julie meets her dad. Shann gets distracted and just has to say something.

Chuck saved his work – twice, just in case – and hit print. He was considering having “Carver Edlund” come out of retirement, and wondered what his agent would say if he got back in touch with her now about a new series. He thought the new work was some of his best, but he wasn’t sure if the _fans_ would agree. Sam and Dean back, but _not_ fighting monsters?

He thought _Sam and Dean_ might like it, though. He especially liked the part where he put Dean back together with Lisa Braeden; he’d debated putting Dean back with Cassie Robinson, but he’d never really liked her, and maybe that was why she’d always been so push-me-pull-you in her emotions about Dean, claiming to be in love with him one minute, then sending him away the next.

No, Lisa was definitely better for Dean than Cassie, and he thought Dean would agree.

As for Sam, _obviously_ resurrecting Jessica Moore had been his only option for a love interest. Becky had never really been in love with Sam (or with _him_ , and he wasn’t about to reward her, after that), and didn’t deserve him. Amelia was back with her husband and Sam might get pissy if he killed Don, just so Sam could have her.

He’d thought about resurrecting Madison, but figured it might be awkward for Sam, seeing as he’d been the one to kill her. Jessica had died, but Sam hadn’t had a hand in it, at least.

He thought that having Dean eventually become a Pilates instructor and opening a small studio with Lisa teaching yoga was a good choice of “retirement” career for Dean. And Sam, he’d decided, would be good with going back to law school and doing what he’d originally set out to do – practice law.

As he read through the work one final time, checking for typos and verb tense agreement, Chuck thought he’d come up with the perfect solution, something the Winchesters would really want, that they could only get from him – _their perfect futures_.

_I can’t wait for Kathy to read this. This is good stuff._

He figured he had about an hour before she got home, so he put the pages in a binder, and cleared, then set, the dining room table, and went to make dinner. They could talk about his offer over dinner, and she could read the new work afterward.

He was just _sure_ she’d agree that it was going to work.

***

Kathy was, at that moment, sitting on the ‘sunning stone,’ as Cas had called it. She was looking at her cell phone, scrunching her face up as she tried to decide – _to call, or not to call?_ She wasn’t sure how far from the cabin she’d need to be for Chuck not to be able to hear the call, but she thought she should give Cas a heads-up. She took a chance, and dialed.

“Hello, Kathy.” Cas answered on the first ring.

“Cas, I have to be quick. I have a guest; you know him. I can’t say who it is, but he’s an _author_. He’s been here since right after you left. He wants to talk, and he wants me to do it for him, but he doesn’t quite know what he wants to say, yet. He says he wants peace, Cas.”

“Are you all right, Kathy? He hasn’t _hurt_ you?” Cas’ concern was evident.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to give you some notice of what’s to come.”

“Hmm. All right, if you’re sure you’re okay? I can have someone come for you.”

“Not necessary. But I have to _go_ now.” Kathy ended the call.

***

Hannah looked around the casino’s restaurant. She didn’t see Chuck anywhere; Amara was sitting alone at a circular table near the buffet, eating crab legs. Hannah spotted Balthazar on the opposite side of the room. He shook his head slightly, to indicate that he didn’t see Chuck, either. She took a deep breath. She nodded to signal her intention; he nodded to indicate he’d keep watch.

 _Now or never time_.

She stepped up to Amara’s table, across from Amara. “Hello, Aunt Amara.”

“Hannah! How lovely to see you! I suppose Castiel sent you?” Amara smiled and gestured for Hannah to have a seat.

Hannah seated herself, and nodded.

“And I suppose dear Castiel wants to know whose side I’m on?” Amara smiled at her niece.

Hannah nodded again.

“I’m on my _own_ side, child. I’ve matured, and no longer wish to destroy for the sake of destruction. My brother’s creation can stand and I won’t interfere with it. But I won’t be locked away again, either, _by anyone_.” Amara caught the arm of a passing waiter, and asked for more drawn butter and another large glass of ice water. “I won’t interfere in a fight, for or against either side. And I won’t interfere with the winning side, afterward; so long as they don’t interfere with me.”

“Aunt Amara, is Chuck really your brother? Castiel seems to think there may be reason for doubt.”

“Well. That’s an interesting suggestion.” Amara thought for a moment. “He was immediately _familiar_ to me, yet there _are_ differences. He did seem somewhat… _diminished_ since I had last seen him, just before he locked me away for millennia, and, of course, he’s got a new vessel, to which I’m not accustomed. I am perhaps not the best entity to judge, since I was away for so long. Can’t you children tell? He is _your father_ , after all.”

“Father disappeared a long time ago. He was only in communication with one of us, Joshua, for a very long time, and he didn’t _appear_ to Joshua, he just conversed with him. Only recently, and I mean _within the last five years_ , did Chuck claim to be Father. Before that, _Chuck Shurley_ was on our list of _Prophets_. He wrote a series of books about the Winchester brothers, based on visions he'd had. Until the Winchesters came to his door in an attempt to get him to stop writing about them, he claimed not to even have been aware of his Prophet status; he just thought he had a really vivid imagination.”

“That’s… _curious_. I wonder….” Amara rested her chin on her hand, one finger tapping at her nose, as she thought.

“Hannah, I assume that you will be reporting our conversation to Castiel?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Tell him I’d like to meet with him, and the Winchesters, and whoever else he’d like to have attend. I’m willing to come to them, wherever, whenever. But soon.” Amara got a pen and a piece of paper from her purse and scribbled something on it.

“Here’s my number; have Castiel call me when he’s made the arrangements, to let me know when and where.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

It was raining cats and dogs in Siren, Wisconsin, as Julie Hydecker pulled into the parking lot of the Pour House Bar and Grill. It seemed packed, yet there was an auspicious parking space right by the door. Julie checked the directions that Sheriff Mills had texted to her.

_Yes, this is the place._

Seemed like an oddly busy place to meet with a ghost; she would have thought a spirit would opt for _quiet_.

She opened the car door and put up her umbrella, then stepped out. She closed the car door, and hurried to the tavern’s door. She entered, and realized that it didn’t feel as busy inside as the parking lot had seemed to indicate. She saw an empty booth, and crossed to it, seating herself, and finding it comfortable.

A voice came from the next booth. “I don’t recommend the coffee. Sam and Dean didn’t seem to like it much.”

And then a tall pale man stood at the end of the table, and she realized that she could see _through_ him – and that there was, in fact, _no one else in the place_. All the ambient noise in the place went suddenly silent.

“Hello, daughter,” said the ghost of Dr. Hydecker, with a soft smile.

***

Shann was trying to get some work done. Sam and Gabe were supposedly doing the same, but given the constant little games of footsie, the whispered “not here!” and “shhh, someone will hear,” the aborted giggles, and the general squirming in their seats, they weren’t being very successful.

“Sam, may I speak with you a moment?” Shann asked, rising from his seat.

Sam looked vaguely guilty as he got up and followed Shann down the hall to the soundproofed office.

“Sam, I’m sorry, and I don’t want to embarrass you, but I just have to say something here. What you and Gabe do on your own time is your business, and none of mine, and honestly, I’m fine with it. I’d be fine with the PDA, too, except for the fact that you guys are being very distracting. You’re paying me to get work done for you, and I can’t. I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels and not getting anywhere. I like this job, I like Gabe, I like you, I like the two of you together, but the job isn’t getting done by any of us. And boy, do I feel weird, saying this to my boss.” Shann flushed, but stood his ground.

“Sorry, Shann, you’re right. We’ll, ah, get out of your way. Seriously, sorry, man,” Sam flushed, too, and beat a hasty retreat, taking Gabe with him to parts unknown.

Shann just went back to work, shaking his head.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, this is why no one can really rely on the books; Chuck just doesn't get it. ;)  
> Kathy took a chance; hope she doesn't regret it... ;)  
> Amara seems awful thoughtful, there.... ;)  
> Dr. Hydecker's kind of a one-trick pony, isn't he?  
> Poor Shann. Hehehehe.
> 
> Comments? ;)


	123. Writings - Past and Future?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes a letter to his four-year-old self. Chuck and Kathy have dinner and discuss his planned offer.

As soon as they returned to the Bunker, Dean went to do his homework. He seated himself at his desk, took out his journal and his pen, uncapped it, and stared at the blank white page.

And then he began to write.

***

_Dear Dean:_

_You’re just **four years old** , and Daddy’s the most important person in your life right now. He makes you feel special, loved. Oh, sure, you love Mom and Sammy, too, but as far as you’re concerned, Daddy is where it’s at. **He’s perfect**. Your hero, and your best friend. When he hoists you up into his arms, hugs you, and laughs, that’s **everything**. _

_I wish you could hold on to that. To that man, to **that** father. Frozen in time, in my memory. You can’t stay in one moment forever, of course. But **I wish so badly** that you could have had that version of him for just a little longer._

_It’s not your fault, Dean. Mom died because of Azazel, not you. Dad changed because of Azazel, not you. **You did nothing wrong**._

_Yeah. 36 years later, I **still** don’t believe that. Intellectually, of course, I know it to be true. Emotionally, though…._

_Mia’s right. **Emotionally, I’m still you**. That little tow-headed, slightly chubby, scamp, who thinks Sammy’s the best thing since sliced bread, and doesn’t understand why everything had to change._

**_Everyone leaves_ ** _. Mom, that (and every) version of Dad, even Sammy. **Everyone**. Get used to it, kiddo._

_I’m sorry, Dean._

_I’m so sorry._

_Dean_

***

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair, and wiped his eyes. It wasn’t a terribly long letter, but it had taken him over an hour to write it.

_Thirty-six years, and one hour, five minutes._

He sighed, capped the pen, put the pen and notebook away, and went to start dinner. He’d write the regular daily journal entry later.

***

Kathy opened her front door, stepped through, and closed it again behind her.

“Oh, hey, Kathy, dinner will be ready in ten. And I think I have just the thing to offer to the Winchesters, finally,” Chuck told her from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah? Let me get cleaned up and changed, and you can tell me while we eat?” Kathy suggested.

“Exactly what I had in mind,” he replied.

Kathy went down the hall, grabbed her things from the bedroom, and went in the bathroom. She turned on the shower to let the water get hot, and then looked in the mirror, using some cold cream to wipe down her face. That done, she slipped into the shower, let the warm water do its work to loosen the muscles that were slightly sore from hiking in the cold, and let the steam help with her breathing and sinuses. More relaxed, she got out and turned the water off, hopping into the sweatpants and t-shirt that she wore as pjs in the winter, put on some soft, thick socks, and felt more ready to go out and face… _God_.

_I’m **never** going to get used to that._

She put her uniform and towels in the hamper, which filled it, which meant tonight was laundry night. So, she picked it up and turned out of the bathroom and into her small laundry room.

“Chuck, do you have any laundry? I’m going to start a load, it’s no trouble to put yours in as well,” she called down the hall.

“I’m good, thanks!” he called back.

She put her load into the washing machine, added detergent and fabric softener, set the controls, and started it up. She took a deep breath, and headed toward the dining room.

“Okay, so, what’s for dinner?” she asked.

“Oh, um, I marinated some chicken breasts, and then baked them, and I roasted some asparagus with olive oil and parmesan cheese, and there’s some cheesy herbed mashed potatoes, and for dessert, I have a pecan pie in the oven, and there’s ice cream to go with that. So, um, yeah, just, um, help yourself, here’s a plate,” Chuck offered.

“Ooh, wow, this all looks great, Chuck, thanks for cooking,” Kathy said, filling her plate and going to sit down.

“Oh, hey, no, I’ve been on my own a long time, so, you know, if I’m gonna eat, I kinda had to learn to cook. Going out all the time gets too expensive when you’re a poor writer. The Supernatural series didn’t really make me all that much, to be honest.” Chuck took a seat at the table.

“Okay, can I just ask, if you’re God, why can’t you _make_ it be popular? For that matter, why can’t you just snap your fingers and have _cash?”_ Kathy inquired.

“Well, technically, I _could_ , but if I just snap my fingers and create, say, a five-hundred dollar bill – that messes with the country’s whole economic system, screws with currency control, and I don’t like to do that. Bad things happen. Last time I did that, let’s see, yeah, was 1928. It snowballed, started a whole thing, I don’t really like to talk about it. And if I snap my fingers and, say, take an existing five-hundred dollar bill from a vault somewhere, well, that’s _theft_. It might not be traceable theft, but it’s still theft. I kinda have a policy against that in place, y’know? _Eighth Commandment?_ I really don’t like to be a hypocrite if I can avoid it.

“As for making my _writing_ popular, well, The Bible is the most printed and most well-read book on the planet, and the Qu’ran isn’t far behind, y’know? But it’s not like I get residual checks for those. I wish!” Chuck laughed.

“I didn’t want to force everyone to read the _Supernatural_ series. I wanted people to use their free will and decide whether or not they liked it. Some did, and hey, y’know, some of them still come to conventions, even though I haven’t put out a new book in ten years? And that’s pretty cool. I have fans.

“But a lot of people just never even heard of the books. I wrote them under a pen name, and I didn’t do a lot of touring for the first book because I was already writing the second; my agent said that was a mistake, that with a series, it’s important to really push the first book, but I didn’t listen. She was right.” Chuck shrugged, and cut up a chicken breast, spearing a piece with his fork.

“Okay. I get it. So, what’s your suggestion for the offer to the Winchesters?” Kathy asked. “By the way, this asparagus is amazing.”

“Oh, thanks, I got the recipe online, I can write it out for you, if you want,” Chuck offered. “Anyway, so, for the Winchesters, I decided to do what I know. I wrote about them. Except I wrote their perfect futures, instead of their past or present. And I gave them everything they could want, love interests, money, good careers that make them happy. And I wrote their whole story, so can they always know what to expect! Isn’t it great?”

“So, let me see if I’ve got this. You want to give Sam and Dean Winchester their best lives, complete with who they’ll love, what they’ll do in terms of work, who they’ll interact with, everything, all planned out to the nth degree?”

“Yeah. Isn’t it great?” Chuck smiled happily.

“Um. Okay, Chuck? I see a tiny consideration you might not have factored in, here.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, Castiel told me his version of their story so far, what he knows of it, and you’ve told me some things as well, and what I’ve gathered, from what I’ve been told, is that Sam and Dean are basically the _personification of free will_. You told me yourself that they _never_ did what you expected them to do. Would they really go for being forced into _your_ idea of _their_ perfect future? Aren’t they more likely to just refuse the offer out of hand, without even reading what you’ve written?” Kathy tried to make her tone very respectful; she knew she could be treading dangerous ground, but she thought it would come better as constructive criticism from her than as the outright refusal to deal that she thought Chuck was most likely to get from Sam and Dean, if she could rely on what Cas had told her about them.

Chuck deflated, and frowned. “Oh. Yeah. Um, yeah, no, you’re probably, no, you’re _definitely_ right. I fucked this all up, I wasn’t thinking. They’d hate it. _Shit shit shit!_ ”

“I’d still like to read what you wrote, though. May I see it, Chuck? After dinner?” Kathy asked. She peered at him, and when he looked up, she smiled softly at him.

“Really? You’d… you’d read it?”

“Well, sure, Chuck. I mean, I haven’t read any of the earlier books, but Castiel told me a lot, to the point where I feel like I know them already. I’d love to read what you wrote.”

“Okay. Maybe it’s not a complete waste. Y’know, Sam and Dean wanted me to stop writing the _Supernatural_ series because it embarrassed them. But maybe the offer could be that I’ll get _this_ published, and tour, and since it _won’t_ be what happens to them, it won’t embarrass them!”

“Hey, now there’s a good idea. It’d be like, what’s the term, in a mystery story, oh, a red herring! Something to throw the fans who still come to the conventions ten years later off the scent of the real Winchester brothers!” Kathy grinned at him.

“Yeah. I might have to change some of the details early in the story as too close to their present lives, but that’s not hard to do, that’s a simple enough re-write. Hey, thanks, Kathy! I’m glad you were able to stop me from making a huge mistake.” Chuck smiled at her.

“You’re welcome. Hey, how about that pie?” Kathy grinned at him.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniffle* Who's chopping the damned onions in here? *sniffle* 
> 
> See? I told you Kathy would be good for Chuck. ;)
> 
> Comments, please! :D
> 
> [By the way - there's a person out there who 'developed an app' to mirror this site, with added subscriptions and ads in order to monetize OUR WORK for HIS PROFIT. Please do not support his app. It's been deleted from the GooglePlay store for Android phones, it's only available on the Apple Store now - leave a review, and then email the app developer at info.catapps@gmail.com - hey, he posted his own email, not my fault - and complain about his scheme. No one NEEDS an app to look at this site - the mobile version works fine, ffs. I don't make a dime off of the stuff I post here, why should HE? Grrr.]


	124. Pre-dinner Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas warns everyone to get washed up for dinner.

Hannah and Balthazar arrived at the Bunker, and called Cas' cell phone to be let in, shortly after Dean had started dinner. Dean asked if they would be joining the group for dinner, but Hannah and Balthazar had no need of food, and didn’t like the taste of carbon molecules (which was realistically all they’d get from pretty much anything Dean had made), so they declined the invitation. Hannah told Cas that Amara would like to meet, soon, and that she had said she’d come anywhere, any time, that Cas chose to schedule a meeting.

“Well, that’s convenient.” Cas smirked a little. “We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

Hannah nodded, and Cas gave the two angels a short tour of the Bunker. They decided to hang out in the movie room and watch television while the others were eating dinner, so Cas left them there, and went back to the kitchen.

“How long do you think until dinner, love? I can warn everyone else to wash up.”

“Ah, I’d say maybe 30-45 minutes to get everything on the table,” Dean told him, leaning back against the counter.

Cas took Dean’s hand and spun him into a quick dance that had them both laughing. Then Cas peered at Dean, head slightly tilted to the right, assessing him.

“So, your session ran long again today. Are you all right, my heart?” Cas asked.

“I’m all right. I never realized that our sessions were going over the scheduled hour, until today, at the end, when Mia told me. She doesn’t see anyone else on Tuesday afternoons, Cas. She said she only bills for the first hour, but it was clear to her from the start that I would need more time than the rest of her patients.”

“You’re not _like_ the rest of her patients. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that you would need more time than they do. You haven’t exactly had an easy, _normal_ life, Dean. You’ve suffered hideous trauma from various sources. _Neglect_ , at the very least, at the hands of your father; _literal torture_ in Hell. You’ve faced abandonment, death, too much solitude, monsters. And yet you’re still here, coherent, and living your life the way you choose, with a strong and beautiful light within you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Dean Winchester. I’m so proud of you.”

“Stop it, Cas; you’ll make me blush.” Dean said it as a joke, but, in fact, he could feel his neck starting to flush.

“Fine. I’ll give you the rest of your compliments later tonight.” Cas grinned. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Go on, out of my kitchen, you. You’re a menace to baked goods and casseroles alike. Go tell everyone to wash up and converge on the War Room in about half an hour.” Dean smiled as his angel saluted and ducked back out of the kitchen.

***

Cas went to Jack’s room, first. The Nephilim had been spending a lot of time alone in his room, reading.

“Jack? Hey. Dean says dinner will be ready in about a half an hour, so wash up soon, okay?” Cas smiled softly.

“Sure, Dad,” Jack said, agreeably.

“Are you all right, son? I know it’s an… adjustment, coming back from The Empty, and we haven’t had a lot of time for you. I apologize for that.”

“Dad, you and Dean are great. _Dean lets me drive Baby!_ He hardly ever lets _anyone_ else drive her. And you two just started being together officially, which is _awesome_ , and you need to have time to be alone together. And Dean is trying to sort things out in his head with Mia, and she’s so great, but he has to take it seriously, and that takes time and work and effort. _I get it, Dad_. You guys are busy. I’m not taking it personally, no worries.”

“Okay. I just… worry about you.” Cas shrugged helplessly.

Jack came over and hugged him. “I get it, Dad. I’m really all right. I’m really here, and I’m okay. You’re going through a lot of stuff, and you’ve got a big fight with Grandpa to gear up for, and I don’t want to be in the way. And by the way, Dad… if you think you can use me, if you think I can be helpful… put me in, please. I have power, I can help, I want to help. Not because Grandpa killed me – although that doesn’t exactly make me want to run right out and buy him a Christmas present – but because _he can’t keep hurting people_. I know I messed up with Grandma Mary, and I feel horrible, still, about that. I won’t do _anything_ without instructions, and I’ll keep my powers tamped down, unless and until I’m told to use them. But if I can help, _please_ – don’t leave me out of the fight just because I’m young, okay?”

Cas nodded slowly. “You’re growing up, Jack. You know, you’re really only three years old. It’s a little odd for you to be so _wise_.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“All right. Go get washed up, I need to tell the others.”

Cas went off to the library, next, assuming Sam, Gabe, and Shann would all be there; he was surprised to find just Shann.

“Hey, Shann. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, if you want to get washed up. We’ll be eating in the War Room again.”

Cas realized Shann hadn’t even heard, he was so focused on the work he was doing. Cas sighed. He went over and waved a hand right in front of Shann’s eyes. Shann blinked.

“Oh, hey, _hi_ , Cas. Um. Sorry, did you need something?”

“Just to tell you that dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, if you want to get washed up. We’ll be eating in the War Room again. I said something, but you didn’t hear me.”

“Yeah, no, I didn’t, sorry. Kinda focused, here.” Shann smiled.

“You don’t happen to know where Sam and Gabe are?” Cas asked.

“Ah, no. They were in here earlier, but I couldn’t get anything done. They were, um, to put it mildly, being _indiscreet_. It’s kind of why I’m so focused, now; I lost about an hour of work time. So, I said something to Sam about how distracting they were being, and after I spoke with Sam, they took off. They didn’t take any work with them, and I haven’t heard from them since. Anyway, thanks for letting me know about dinner; I’ll be there in a bit, but I need to finish this up, first.”

Cas nodded. He crossed through the War Room and went back down the hall to the bedrooms. He knocked loudly on Sam’s door, and paused to listen. He didn’t hear anything. He called, loudly enough to be heard behind the door, “Sam, if you’re in there, and awake, dinner’s in about fifteen minutes, time to get washed up.”

He went down the hall to the room where Gabe was storing his things, if not actually sleeping, and repeated the process. Cas shrugged; he went to wash his own hands.

_If they want to miss dinner, that’s on them. I’m hungry._

***

Inside Sam’s room, Sam had bit his own lip to keep from laughing, and had put a hand over Gabe’s mouth to keep him quiet, too, when Cas had knocked. He kept Gabe quiet when Cas went just a few doors down and knocked again. Only when it sounded like Cas had left the corridor for good did Sam remove his hand to let Gabe speak again.

“I know how to be quiet!” Gabe whispered.

“Hey, I had to bite my own lip to stay quiet enough.” Sam grinned. “So… _hungry_?”

“Not for _food_ , particularly,” Gabe grinned back.

Sam pulled the blanket back up over them, and then up over their heads. “There, now we’re in a cave.”

“Ah, explains why I feel like a caveman.”

“Well, that could also be because you _predate_ the cavemen, Gabe.” Sam started giggling again.

“Are you saying I should be in one of those insurance ads that makes a big deal about how it’s so easy to use that ‘even a caveman could do it’?” Gabe laughed.

“Nah. You’re a lot cuter than the guys in those ads.” Sam brushed Gabe’s hair back from his face. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“You’re stuck with me now, Samshine.”

Sam’s stomach growled.

“Okay, Sam, time for dinner. Don’t try telling me you’re _not_ hungry, after that,” Gabe laughed.

Sam grumbled. “Fine.” He sat up and reached for his shirt, which was laying in a pile of clothes on the floor. He grabbed Gabe’s as well, and handed it to him. “Here.”

“Hey. Don’t get all grumbly because I take care of you, Sam. We’ll be back in here later on, you’re not missing anything.”

“I’ve _already_ missed too much time with you, Gabe.” Sam sighed, and reached for his jeans, as well. He slid them on, stood, and tucked his shirt in.

Gabriel slid out of bed and pulled Sam down for another kiss. “You still need to eat, Sam. C’mon, moose, you don’t want to start shrinking from malnutrition.”

Sam laughed at that. “You told me to invest in blindfolds; maybe it should have been footstools,” he told the shorter angel, then ducked as Gabriel cuffed his head playfully.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left Sam and Gabe a little privacy, at least. ;)
> 
> Comments? :)


	125. After Dinner Planning Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dinner, Cas gathers the troops for a meeting in the Bunker's library.

After dinner, Shann and Jack took their turn at clearing and washing the dishes.

Cas retrieved Hannah and Balthazar from the movie room, and took them to the library, to meet up with Dean, Sam, and Gabe. They all took seats around the long conference table.

Cas got things started. “Okay, so, I’m not sure that everyone here has the same background information, and I want to get everybody on the same page. Dean pointed out some things to me in the last couple of days that I thought merited further investigation. So, Dean, would you tell everyone what you told me, please?”

“Um, okay,” Dean said. “Well, first, I realized that the whole reason that Sam and I accepted that _Chuck_ was really _God_ in the first place was that he gave Kevin Tran admission to Heaven. That was a few years back. But we learned a couple of months ago that, in fact, he sent Kevin to _Hell_ , and now that Kevin’s been downstairs, there’s a rule in place that says he can’t ever get into Heaven. Apparently, some exceptions were made when we were in favor, like our Dad, but no more. So Kevin chose to wander the earth as an untethered spirit, risking insanity, rather than return to Hell. I mentioned that to Cas, and he kinda blew me off a bit, and I got a little angsty with him, but we settled that.

“And then I remembered that, at one point during the whole mess way back when Zachariah was trying to get me to join Team Michael, Chuck had a vision about Michael’s sword, and it was supposedly located at a storage facility in upstate New York, so he sent us there to try to get it. When Sam and I arrived, we found two dead demons, but no sword (of course). Zach then told us that angels had implanted the vision into Chuck.

“Two things about that scenario seem odd to me, as I told Cas. First, if Chuck is God, then he would have known that Michael’s ‘ _sword_ ’ wasn’t a tangible item; it was _me_ , his ‘true vessel.’ Why bother sending me and Sam to the storage facility at all? Second, if Chuck is God, how is it possible that _angels implanted a vision into his mind without him being_ ** _aware_** _of it?”_

“I remember that,” Sam nodded. “And now that you say it, you’re right, that is odd.” 

Dean continued, “Later, Sam and I ended up in Heaven, and we were captured, and about to be tortured by Zach, but Joshua intervened. He told Zach that he had to insist on being allowed to speak with us, on orders from ‘the Boss’ – _i.e._ , God. He said that Zach could ignore him, but eventually God would come home, and ‘you know how he is with that whole “wrath thing”.’ So, Zach and his two minions left, and Joshua took us to Heaven’s Garden. He confirmed to us that God talked to him, and that God was on Earth, somewhere, but he didn’t know where, and he didn’t know why.

“So, my suggestion was that, while Cas was upstairs doing his research stuff, he should look for _Joshua_ , and ask him to confirm that Chuck is, in fact, the God he’s been talking with for millennia. If he said yes, then I’m wrong. But if Joshua _didn’t_ know Chuck, then God must be somewhere else, and Chuck isn’t who we need to be worrying about. Or, he _is_ who we need to be worrying about, but then we don’t need to worry _as much_ _, because, whatever he may be, he isn’t actually God_.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said.

Jack came in to the library and took a seat.

“Did Shann go home, Jack?” Cas asked.

“Yes, he said he’d be back in the morning,” Jack confirmed.

“Jack, why don’t you go next; tell everyone about your dreams, so we’re all on the same page,” Cas invited.

“Sure, Dad. It was a very vivid dream. Most of my dreams are a little fuzzy on details, but this wasn’t like that. I was walking in a field, with a lot of tall grass, and meadow wildflowers, lots of blues and pinks and dark reds. I thought I recognized the place, but I couldn’t quite figure out from where. Then it opened up into a yard framed by gardens, more flowers, but tended, in beds and rows, not wild. And there was a dog, and I knew that I knew it, but I couldn’t remember its name. I knew it was one of the presidents, though, one with a double ‘o’ in it, so I thought _Hoover_ , but that wasn’t it; _Coolidge_ , but that wasn’t it. And then I remembered, its name was ‘ _Roosevelt_ ’ and he was my _mom’s_ dog from when she was in high school, and I had seen him before, when I visited her in Heaven. So, I wondered if I had died again, and gone back to Heaven.

“And then I heard her voice behind me, and she said, “ _No, Jack. You’re not dead. You’re just dreaming_.” So I turned around, and mom was there, smiling up at me, and she said, “ _Hello, son_.” I asked her if it was real, or if I was just dreaming. And she told me she was visiting me in my dreams, and that she had done so before, I just didn’t remember it when I woke up. I asked if I would remember this time, and she said this: ‘ _Yes. You need to. I have something to tell you. You need to remember to tell Castiel something for me. All right? You need to tell Castiel this: “The light is important. You’re not imagining it. It’s the key. The light is the key.” Remember that, Jack.’_ And then I said that I would remember to tell you, and that I had missed her. She said that she had missed me too, and that I should sleep well. And then she said again to ‘ _Remember – “the light is the key.”’_ And then she smiled, and kissed my forehead, and vanished. And then I was back in the field, walking through the tall grass and flowers again. And then, eventually, the dream ended.”

“After I told Dad about that dream, we agreed that it would be prudent to try to ask Mom some questions, if I could find her in my dreams again. So, I took a lot of naps, and went looking. And I found her. This dream started out just like the first. I chatted with her for a minute about other things first, but then I told her that Dad had been confused by the message she’d sent. I said that he’d understood that she’d meant the light in Dean’s soul, but not what she’d meant about it being ‘the key.’ I asked her, ‘The key to what, Mother? What kind of key? Does it unlock something? Or is it important, like a key ingredient? We didn’t understand what you meant.’ And she told me that ‘Some things have to be found, not given. If I could tell you more, I would. Castiel will have to discover the meaning on his own.’ I asked her if Dean or Dad were in danger, and she said she didn’t know. Then she repeated that ‘The light is the key. Castiel will have to discovery the meaning of that on his own.’ And then she told me to wake up, and I sat bolt upright in bed.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Cas said. “So you all know, I’ve been doing my own investigating. Lucifer and Michael are currently residing in Sam’s memory palace, and I have spoken with each of them there, and with Gabe, here, of course. And it seems that long before God actually left Heaven, he told Michael that he intended to retire, and leave Michael in charge; but when he _actually_ left, he just snuck out, shortly after the Flood. He left Michael in charge on a _de facto_ basis, but _not_ officially – that’s why only _some_ angels, loyal to Michael, actively helped with the plan to recruit Dean as Michael’s vessel; there were many more who did nothing to assist Michael.

“God had also told Lucifer, when he cast him into Hell, that he would eventually retire, and leave _Lucifer_ in charge; he had also earlier told Lucifer that Lucifer had as strong a talent for creation as he did.

“So, it seems that God never intended to be the only ruler of Heaven forever. But I think he was looking for someone with _very particular character traits_ to succeed him, and hadn’t found that entity. I believe I know what the traits are, but I wanted to look at the records to be sure. But when I checked today, there were no records in Heaven’s archives dating back to before the Flood. And I think we probably have Metatron to thank for that. He was alone up there for a few weeks, certainly long enough to destroy the archives’ antediluvian records. I also looked for Joshua, but he wasn’t upstairs. He may be alive and on earth, or he may have gone to the Empty; he had no loyalty to anyone but God, so The Cosmic Entity would not have sent him back to assist us as being loyal to me. So, I’m sorry, Dean, but I wasn’t able to consult with him, as you had suggested.

“Now, we had previously agreed that we needed to have someone speak with Amara, find out whose side she’s on, ask if we can count on her. We had agreed that Hannah would be that someone, if she agreed. So, when I went upstairs this morning, I spoke with her, and she did agree to take on that responsibility. Balthazar agreed to go along with her as back-up.

“Hannah, why don’t you tell everyone about your meeting with Amara,” Cas suggested.

Hannah nodded. “Amara stated clearly that she wants to be neutral, and not interfere, not in a fight, and not with whoever wins afterward, so long as she’s left alone. She won’t submit to being locked away again, but says she has no continuing interest in destruction, and Father’s creations can stand, she’ll leave them alone. She says she’s matured. I asked her if Chuck was really her brother, and said there might be reason to doubt. She said that was ‘an interesting suggestion’ and that while he ‘was immediately _familiar_ to’ her, there were differences, and she thought that he had seemed somewhat… _diminished_ since the last time she had seen him, right before he locked her away. She also said that ‘he’s got a new vessel,’ and that she wasn’t ‘accustomed’ to it. Then she asked if we, as angels, couldn’t tell, and said ‘he is _your father_ , after all.’

“So I pointed out that Father had disappeared a long time ago, and had only been in communication with one of us, Joshua, for a very long time, and he didn’t _appear_ to Joshua, he just conversed with him. I told her that only recently, meaning _within the last five years_ , did Chuck claim to be Father. Before that, _Chuck Shurley_ was on our list of _Prophets_. He wrote a series of books about Sam and Dean, based on visions he'd had, but until they’d come to his door in an attempt to get him to stop writing about them, he had claimed not even to have been aware of his Prophet status; he just thought he had a really vivid imagination.

“Amara thought that was ‘curious.’ Then she asked if I would be reporting back to Castiel, and I said I would, and she asked me to tell you that she’d ‘like to meet with him, and the Winchesters, and whoever else he’d like to have attend. I’m willing to come to them, wherever, whenever. But soon.’ And then she gave me her phone number, and told me to have Castiel call her when he’d made the arrangements for such a meeting, to let her know when and where to show up.”

“Thank you, Hannah, for taking that responsibility, and for letting us know what Amara said,” Cas told her. “One final thing. I had a call from my friend, Kathy. I met her in Wyoming, when I was staying there, and she helped me get some clarity on my thoughts and what I wanted, going forward. It turns out that after I went to get my truck, and I mean very shortly after I left with it, Chuck showed up on her doorstep. He told her that he wants ‘peace,’ and he had asked her to be his mouthpiece in dealing with us. I asked if she wanted me to send someone to pick her up and asked if he had hurt her. She said she was fine, and that sending someone wasn’t necessary. But she refused to come out and say his name; she said her ‘guest’ was someone that I knew, and that he was an author. The entire call took less than a minute; probably less time than I’ve spent reporting it to you. And now, I think we’re all on the same page, unless anyone else has something to report…. No?

“Then I suggest we open the meeting up for discussion of the following topics: (1) when and where do we meet with Amara, and who goes to that meeting; (2) what are we hoping to achieve over all? And (3) I’d also like to propose for discussion the question of whether or not we should ask Amara to release Lucifer and Michael from Sam’s memory palace, resurrect them fully, and have them join us at some point. Technically, at the moment, they’re dead, and exist as ‘memories with intent’ within Sam’s head. Now, Gabe might be able, on his own, to remove them from Sam’s head, and send them to The Cage in Hell – which, by the way, Amara says she’s changed to just a holding cell, it’s no longer a torture device. But, he wouldn’t have the power necessary to resurrect them fully, such that we could use their power, probably not even with Jack; we’d need Amara for that.

“Here’s my thinking.” Cas explained, “Raphael is gone, and he and I were at war, so The Cosmic Entity didn’t bring him back. We have one Archangel, Gabe, here; we could do with more. The only two others are available, but trapped. Lucifer and I were able to bring Michael back to sanity, and he professes to be on our side – said that if I hadn’t tossed the flaming grenade at him in Stull Cemetery way back when, he would have called off the fight with Lucifer then. They’re getting along with each other, and they could, potentially, help. But the question is whether Amara, who professes to be neutral, would agree to help resurrect them, as that would shift the balance of power. So. What do you all think?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everyone following along? We're all on the same page as to what's going on? ;)
> 
> Please, please comment!! :D


	126. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes some decisions. Dean writes his daily journal entry, and makes a decision of his own.

The group decided the last issue first. They would need Lucifer and Michael, both, to deal with Chuck, if Chuck really was God, and at the moment, they had no way to know if he was or wasn’t.

They also decided that the meeting with Amara shouldn’t be at the Bunker, but somewhere more neutral. Dean suggested that they use Bobby’s house for the meeting, pointing out that the panic room would shield them from Amara, if her temper flared, or from Lucifer and/or Michael, should either of them turn out to have been less than truthful with regard to their intentions. Dean and Cas had intended on going to Sioux Falls for the weekend anyway. It was agreed that Balthazar, Hannah, and Gabe would go along, and Jack and Sam would remain behind to man the Bunker. Cas would contact Amara with details the next day.

As for what they were hoping to achieve overall, no one was sure. “To come out of any fight alive” seemed to be the most basic consensus, but beyond that, no one seemed to be able to articulate a goal that seemed achievable.

After the meeting, Cas, Gabe, Hannah, and Balthazar stayed in the library for a while to catch up. Sam and Jack went to watch a movie. Dean went back to his room to write his regular daily journal entry.

***

Dean seated himself at his desk, got his notebook and pen back out, and uncapped the pen.

***

**_ Tuesday evening _ **

_So, since writing the letter to Zachariah last night, I kind of feel like a lot has happened, and yet, not much really occurred. While writing that letter, I remembered more stuff about Chuck that would seem to indicate that he maybe isn’t really God. I went to talk with Cas about it, and he started to blow me off again, but I pointed out that he was doing it, and he stopped, and actually listened, and agreed with my suggestion for how to handle trying to find out for sure. And then I took him through what I wrote about in my entry yesterday, about how I felt he was being condescending, that I don’t need babysitting, and I don’t like the idea of cracks in our foundation._

_I also made sure to praise him for having advised us of his plans, and not just going off on his own, and acknowledged that he was making real progress, too, and I thanked him for it. And that little bit of praise made him so happy, he practically glowed. He apologized, and admitted he had been dismissive when he shouldn’t act like that, and that made me feel better._

_And then I yawned, and he said he could use some rest, too, so maybe we should go to bed. So I asked if he wanted to go to bed, or to sleep, and he admitted he wasn’t quite ready for sleep. So I asked if he wanted to try a “one new thing” and he said he had one to propose – he said that I had been inside him, and he wanted to try being inside me. And my brain stopped. Just stuttered out in the hallway. So then he started to backtrack, thinking I was rejecting him, and I had to shut that down quickly, because I wasn’t rejecting either him, or the idea. I told him the idea made me nervous, but I wanted to try to turn nervous into excited, and that if he could be patient with me, I thought that could happen. And he said that’d be okay, and reminded me that I’m allowed to say “no”, I don’t ever have to do anything I’m not comfortable with or not ready for yet. And that made me feel better, too._

_Then we decided that “one new thing” works when we start out with what we’re already comfortable with, and add in the new thing organically, as it comes up. So, we got into our pjs and brushed our teeth, etc., then met up back in the bedroom, and Cas suggested we start by just cuddling at first, to let us get used to the feel of each other again, shirts off, pants on. That much is old territory by now, so it felt good, right, to get into bed shirtless and roll to face my angel._

_Cas was very patient and gentle, but he kind of… took over. He wasn’t assertive, or demanding, really, but he was definitely in charge, directing the proceedings, and it was hot. He kept telling me to just lie still for him, and he insisted that I use my words to tell him what I wanted. If I could ask for it, I could have it, but if I asked for nothing, all I’d get was him licking wet stripes on my abdomen and blowing over them to make me shiver, which was also hot._

_He set the pace, and it was so slow and careful and tender, and he said “I love you, Dean,” each time he pulled out, before he would push back in. He wanted my eyes open, and focused on him the whole time. And he insisted that I say “I love you” back to him, which I was, of course, happy to do. I know I didn’t hold as still for him as he wanted me to, but even so, he told me that I was perfect._

_This morning, after breakfast, Jack told me and Cas that he’d had another dream about his mom, so he’d asked her what “the light is the key” meant, but she just said that “some things can’t be given, only found” and Cas would have to discover the meaning on his own._

_Then Cas, Sam, Gabe, and I were sitting around in the kitchen and Cas was taking requests and messages for up in Heaven – Sam and I wanted him to hug mom for us, tell Bobby hello, that kind of thing – and when Sam got a little emotional, I noticed Gabe squeezed his hand in support. So I asked Sam if I could speak with him, and Cas and Gabe took themselves off to give us a minute, and I asked Sam what was up with him and Gabe – said “I just need to know, Sam, do I welcome him to the family officially, or do I break his head?” Sam said that as of that morning, about mile 20 of their run, they were officially together, no details. Then he asked if Cas and I were good, and I said we were._

_Then we talked for a bit about my plans for the Salvage Yard, and for the vintage cars we’ve got in the Bunker’s garage, and Sam thought it all sounded good and I should go for it, “make Bobby proud.” So I asked if it would just be Bobby, and Sam told me that he’d never not been proud of me, that I’m his hero and the best man he knows, and that he loves me. And then he told me to have a good session, and to let him know if I needed to talk, after._

_I thanked him for making me get help, and said that I didn’t know why I let everything get so bottled up. And then he said that I do know why – Dad. I wasn’t supposed to have feelings. He said, “You were supposed to just be his perfect little soldier. He didn’t pull that kind of crap with me nearly as much, and I fought back against it a lot more than you did, and I_ _still_ _have trouble talking about my feelings. It has to be at least one hundred times worse for you. You’re_ _not_ _imagining that, Dean. That’s not something Alastair did to you, or not all of it, anyway. That’s **Dad**.” And he’s right. _

_So I told him about my letter to Dad, and my memory of Dad from just before the fire, when I last heard him laugh. And he reminded me of the time in Chicago, right after all the crap with Meg, when Dad smiled and hugged us, said that he’d missed us. That’s one of the clearest good memories I have of Dad, and apparently it’s the same for Sammy. Then Sam said he might make an appointment with Mia, too. And then I realized I was going to be late if I didn’t get moving._

_My session ran long – nearly three hours – and I was shocked when Mia said that each of our sessions so far have gone about the same length of time. I had no idea._

_Mia gave me some good advice – she said that I am not ready to talk to Sam about Emma, and may never be ready, and that’s okay. She said I should give myself permission to be angry with him, let myself feel that anger, let it out and let it go – and skip over any kind of confrontation or conversation with Sam about it, because I love Sam and always will, and being angry with him won’t change that, but having a confrontation might, and I need the relationship more than I need the fight. She’s right. I need Sam, and I need to feel the anger, but then let it go. So I think I’ll talk with Cas about doing that this weekend, while we’re up in Sioux Falls._

_Then Mia asked me to tell her, not what I’d done wrong in the events that led up to my panic attack, but what I had done right. She said it was “really good” that I caught and apologized for my having sniped at Cas. She said I didn’t spiral due to the one single thing I was most concerned about when I first went to see her – my anger issues. She said that I spiraled because I was afraid of pushing away the best thing that’s ever happened to me –_ _Cas_ _. She told me that I cannot control Cas. He’s his own person. If he decides to go, I can’t stop him from leaving, and that terrifies me. He tells me he won’t go, and intellectually, I believe that he means it. But emotionally, I’m still that terrified four-year-old, running from a house fire with my brother in my arms, not understanding where my mother went and why she won’t come back. In other words, it’s my abandonment issues rearing their ugly heads._

_Then she said that my abandonment fears were much more deeply seated, much more foundational, than my anger, and it makes perfect sense because no one has ever been allowed to be a constant in my life, every single point of contact has been taken away from me. That I fear not just the loss of people that I love, but the **lack of control over losing them** that I’ve always felt, and that’s what leads to my self-sabotage – it’s a means of gaining back that **control**. If I push them away, then that’s why they leave. And while I’ve kind of known that the whole time, the conversation with Mia really helped me get it, the why of what I always do. And if I understand why I do it, maybe it’s easier to change what I do, to change my own motivations, to stop self-sabotaging my relationships. _

_Mia encouraged me to plan out what I need to say, especially when it’s to someone I care about, like Cas or Sam. To take the time to write it out, in a letter or a journal entry, but to remember that I have to actually say the words, too. It feels a little odd because I never really planned anything for any relationship before, and I think that’s tied, again, to the abandonment issues. Why plan to say something to someone you know is just going to leave? If I’m going to accept my relationship with Cas as something permanent and real, then I have to take the time to think about what I want to say to him, have to make plans with him and stick to them, have to let myself accept that it really is real between us._

_I’ve always felt like, okay, screw up one relationship, it’s 50/50 on saying who was to blame for it ending, but when I’ve consistently screwed up 100% of my relationships, then the common factor there, in all of them, is… me. I’ve internalized the blame for everyone leaving, whether it was really my fault, or not. Like the letter I wrote earlier this evening to four-year-old me. Intellectually, I know that Mom died and Dad changed because of Azazel, and it had literally nothing to do with me. But to me, emotionally, it still, thirty-six years later, feels like it’s my fault. I have to let that go. It wasn’t my fault. I did nothing wrong. I saved Sam from the fire, got him outside and to safety. **There was nothing that I could have done to save Mom. There was nothing I could have done to stop Dad from changing due to her death. Nothing. It was not my fault. IT WAS NOT MY FAULT**._

_After session, I came back and wrote that letter to myself right away, and it took over an hour. By the time I was done, I was starving, so I went to start dinner for everyone. And we had a full house today – me, Cas, Sam, Gabe, Jack, Shann, Balthazar, and Hannah. It was actually pretty nice to see Balthazar and Hannah again, especially since we’re all on the same side now, and not trying to kill each other._

_After dinner, Jack and Shann did the washing up, and then Shann took off for the day. The rest of us met in the library to discuss planning and make sure everyone was on the same page in terms of knowing what’s going on across everything we’ve got going on – communication helps._

_Hannah met with Amara. Amara intends to remain neutral, but she does want to meet. So we’re going to ask her to meet with us this weekend, at Bobby’s house – well, our house, now – in Sioux Falls._

_Also, this weekend, Cas and I are going to tell Claire that we’re together. And I’m starting to think that maybe before we go, I should have another conversation with Cas, about where we want this relationship to go, long-term. I know I love him, and I know he’s always going to be “it” for me. I know he loves me, too. Which makes me wonder if maybe we should make it official. Dude’s gone millennia without a last name. I think “Cas Winchester” sounds pretty damn good._

***

Dean stared at that last paragraph.

_Really, Dean? Marriage? Is that what you’re really thinking? **Holy shit.** **I think it is.**_

A smile started. It grew to a grin.

_I’m marrying my angel, if he’ll have me._

And the light in Dean's soul surged again - and this time, all four of the angels and the Nephilim noticed it.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SQUEE!! Um. Sorry. I mean, yay! Our boy's not so emotionally constipated now, eh? ;)
> 
> Comments? ;D


	127. Three Out of Four...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes another letter. Sam and Gabe...chat. Yeah. Chat. Mmhmm.

Since he’d _just_ been writing about taking the time to plan out important conversations with Cas, Dean knew it wasn’t a conversation they’d be having that night. But he could write a letter… and, hey, he hadn’t even recapped the pen, yet.

He grinned and turned the page to a clean sheet.

***

_Dear Cas,_

_I’m going to try very hard to say all of this to you out loud, but you know that I am terrible at verbalizing how I’m feeling, so I’m taking the precaution of writing this down. I want to plan out what I want to say, and then if I just can’t say it, I can give you this, and you can know that I tried, all right? **I really want to be able to say it**. I know you understand why I might not be able to, and that makes it a little easier to try._

**_I love you_ ** _. I am **so** in love with you. I know that you will always be **it** , for me. No one else could **possibly** understand me better or know more of me, than you. And the miracle is, you love me **anyway**. You know what I did in Hell. You know what I did as a demon, bearing the Mark. You know my every evil deed, my every twisted thought, my every horrible impulse. And, despite it all, **you love me**. You insist that I’m enough, that I’m good, that I deserve good things, that my soul shines, that I make you happy. I can’t pretend to understand how it is that you can possibly feel that way, but I am so glad that you do. _

_I don’t want to hurt you, not ever. I don’t want to shut you out any more. I’m done with blaming you, and pushing at you, and sniping at you. I just want to love you, and be with you. And I know that you’ve said that you love me, that you’re in love with me, and that you’ll never leave me. That if I went away, you’d come after me. So, I’m hoping that that means you’ll go along with what I’m going to say next._

_Dearest Castiel, Angel of the Lord, my guardian, my best friend, my love, please: will you make me the happiest man in existence and agree to be my husband? Will you let me give you my last name, and be **Castiel Winchester**? _

_We don’t have to jump into anything immediately. If you think **you’re** not ready, if you think **I’m** not ready, if you think we should wait for some **other** reason, like not letting Chuck know about us, or something like that, that’s fine. I’m not suggesting we run off to a Justice of the Peace tomorrow. But I like being your partner, your boyfriend, and your lover. I think I’d like to be your fiancé, and, eventually, your husband, too. _

**_I love you, Cas. Please. Marry me_ ** _._

_Dean_

***

Dean wasn’t entirely sure he was satisfied with it, but hey, that’s what drafts are for, right? He wasn’t going to bring it up quite yet, anyway; he needed to practice saying it. So, he could take another stab at it in the morning. He recapped the pen, put the notebook and pen away, and went to brush his teeth.

***

Sam was reading – for once, not researching, just reading for fun – in bed. There was a knock on his door.

“Come in?” he called.

Gabriel stuck his head in. “Hey, Sam. Can I…?”

“Get in here, goof. You don't need to knock.” Sam waved him in. Gabe sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I feel a little guilty, leaving you alone after the meeting like that, right after we just….”

“Shh. You’re fine. I’m not upset in the slightest. I don’t want to live in your pocket, Gabe. You were having a good time with friends, I was having a good time alone. No worries.” Sam smiled.

“Yeah? It’s just, this morning, you said you don’t share, so….”

Sam grinned. “I doubt you were off having sex with Balthazar and Hannah, Gabe. I didn’t mean we couldn’t _talk_ with other people, or have other friends.”

“Oh.”

“Gabe, you were into _porn stars. Plural. Multiple_. I know for a fact that you’ve had threesomes – I’ve interrupted them. All I meant by ‘I don’t share’ was that I want us to be exclusive to each other _sexually_. But we don’t have to be joined at the hip. Like this coming weekend – you’re going to Sioux Falls, and I’m not. I don’t expect you to report back to me about who you talked to, or to call me every five minutes. We’re adults. You’re going to do a job. I trust you to do it, and do it well, and then come home.”

“You _trust_ me, Samshine?” Gabe’s voice was soft and tremulous.

“Of course I do.”

“Why? I mean, you _can_ , but given the evidence that you yourself just pointed out, I’m not exactly the best candidate for exclusivity. So… _why_ do you trust me, Sam?”

“Do you love me, Gabe?”

“Yes.”

“Would you ever hurt me, Gabe? Intentionally?”

“ _No!”_

“So, if I trust you not to sneak around and cheat on me, why would you be surprised? If you did those things, that would hurt me, and you would never do that.” Sam smiled softly and cupped Gabriel’s cheek. Gabe turned toward Sam’s hand, and kissed his palm gently. He nodded.

“You’re right. I just didn’t know if you would see things that way.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Sam, I’ve fucked up a lot, okay? I’ve never been good with relationships. I’m great with flings, one night stands, sure. But real, _lasting_ relationships? Heck, couldn’t even do that with my own _family_. I run. I hide. I mock everyone mercilessly, but mostly I’m making fun of myself. Having this, with you? It’s probably the healthiest thing I’ve ever let myself do – _for me_. But I don’t know how good it’ll be _for you_. I worry, Sam. I’m supposed to take care of you. But I’ve already blown that six ways to Sunday, in ways you don’t even know about.

“I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you, and yeah, I’m not gonna sneak around and cheat, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck this up _somehow_ , someway, and end up hurting you by accident. And I’m gonna hate myself forever, but it could still happen, Sam, and it scares the _shit_ out of me, okay?” Gabriel was whispering by the end, his head hanging, chin to his chest.

“Hey. Hey, Gabe, c’mon. Look, I don’t think I know about everything you’re maybe referencing, and I don’t want to know, okay? Unless you decide you _want_ to tell me, but I don’t need to hear about it, whatever it is. Ever. _It doesn’t matter._ Past is past. I refuse to dwell on it. We’re _here_ , now.

“And you can be scared, but I don’t think you’re going to fuck anything up, Gabe. I trust you. I trust you to love me. And I trust that if you get scared, if you have doubts, you’ll do what you just did – come to me and talk with me about them. Okay? C’mere.”

Sam pulled Gabe down to lie next to him, and just cuddled with him, holding him close, until he finally felt Gabriel relax.

“Thank you, Sam. I don’t deserve you, but I’m glad I have you.” Gabe said, softly.

Sam huffed out a laugh.

“What? What’s funny?” Gabe demanded.

“I feel like I’m in a 70s chewing gum commercial. Remember the ‘ _four out of five dentists recommend_ …?’ Well, here, it’s ‘ _three out of four participants in a Winchester-angel relationship say they don’t deserve their partner_.’ Guess which part of the three-to-one ratio I’m in?” Sam grinned.

“Yeah, well, you always were a little too big for your britches, Samsquatch. Hmmph.” Gabe pretended to be offended, but couldn’t quite pull it off, possibly because he had started to laugh, as well.

“Hey, I’ve made my share of mistakes, Gabe. But as Dean once said, ‘ _we’re the guys who save the world_.’ If a _Winchester_ doesn’t deserve an angel, who does?” Sam kissed Gabe’s neck softly, and Gabe shivered. Sam wrapped his arms more tightly around Gabe, and Gabe relaxed instantly.

“Um, yeah, I see your… point, Sam…. Mmphm….”

“Good.” Sam continued to mouth along Gabe’s neck, up and down, from ear to shoulder.

“Mmphm, Sam… oh, Jesus. Sam… mmphm….”

“I want you, Gabe,” Sam whispered. “Do you want me?”

“Christ, Sam, _yes_ , I want you.” Gabe moaned softly.

“Where do you want me, Gabe? Tell me what you want,” Sam continued to kiss Gabe’s neck, sucking lightly here and there, enjoying the feeling of Gabe squirming, and yet not trying at all to get away.

“I want you inside me, I want to be inside you, I want it _all_ , Sam.” Gabe tried to sound forceful and confident, but it came out as more of a whimper. “What you do to me, Sam. Jesus.”

Sam huffed out a tiny laugh. “Okay, I want all of that, too, baby. But which would you like _first_? What do you want right _now_?”

Gabe moaned. “Take me, then. I don’t think I can think long enough to take you.”

Sam laughed. “All right, Gabe. All right.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* Feeeelings.... ;)
> 
> Comments? ;)


	128. Hidden Funds and Late-Night Popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna gets a letter and reaches out to Sam for help. Cas and Dean snuggle. Kathy is awakened by Chuck making microwave popcorn at 2 AM.

Donna pulled her truck into her driveway about midnight, after a _very_ long double shift, stopping at the mailbox long enough to pull the mail out, before pulling all the way in, parking, and turning off the engine. She got out of the truck and headed inside, sorting through the mail as she went.

_What’s this letter from Doug’s attorney?_

She opened the envelope and pulled out the letter… and the... _court papers_ ….?

_What’s all this, now?_

“Dear Ms. Hanscum:

“Please see the enclosed Motion To Reopen Divorce Proceedings, pursuant to Minn. Stat. § 518.145(2)(2) and (3). It has come to the attention of our client, Mr. Kontos, that you fraudulently hid funds from him during the marriage, and from the court during the divorce proceedings, and an equitable division of said hidden funds, to be incorporated into a new divorce decree, is sought at this time. Please note that a hearing has been set on this motion for….”

_What the…? Hidden funds? What hidden funds? What the heck?_

Donna looked at the mantel clock; no, it was far too late at night to call her own attorney, that would have to wait until tomorrow. Donna pulled her cell phone out and dialed Doug, but it went straight to voice mail, and she hung up. She tried Jody next, with the same result. Then she tried the only other person she could think of that might be able to help right now.

***

“Of _course_ I’ll look into it…. Right now…. What was the statute referenced in the letter? Got it. All right…. Look, there’s time before the hearing, we’ll figure this out, okay, Donna? Yeah…. I’ll call you back as soon as I know something…. Okay. Bye.”

“What’s going on, Samshine?” Gabe asked, concerned. Sam had slid out of bed to take Donna’s call, and was now pulling on his jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Donna’s being threatened by her ex-husband’s attorney, something about they think she was hiding funds from Doug during the marriage, and from the court during the divorce. I have some research to do. Go back to sleep, Gabe.” Sam bent and kissed the Archangel’s cheek quickly, and practically ran from the room.

“Who’s _Donna_?” Gabe asked the empty room.

***

Dean was asleep when Cas entered their room, shortly after 12:30 am. Cas smiled softly, and tucked Dean in a bit better. Cas turned to change into his pjs, and heard Dean say sleepily behind him, “Oh, hey Cas.”

Cas turned back, and found Dean smiling up at him, rubbing his eyes.

“Hello, Dean.”

“It’s late, man. Comin’ to bed?”

“Yes, just changing now.”

“Okay. Hey, I was thinking we could go shopping in the morning. I’ve got a couple of errands I need to run, and we still need to get you some more clothes. Does tomorrow morning work for you, Cas?”

“Certainly, Dean.” Cas didn’t bother with a shirt. He came to bed wearing just a pair of sweatpants. “You might be a tiny bit overdressed, Dean.”

Dean grinned. He sat up long enough to strip off his t-shirt, and then he was wearing only a pair of flannel pj pants. “Better?”

“Mmhmm.” Cas slid into bed and pressed his back up against Dean’s chest.

Dean hummed his approval. “Love you, Cas.”

“Love you, too, Dean.”

“Night.” Dean yawned, shut his eyes, and pulled Cas gently further into his arms.

“Night.” Cas went willingly and burrowed a little into the blanket, as well as Dean.

***

Kathy woke up in the middle of the night. She wasn’t sure why. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table: 2:00.

_There. There it is again._

She could hear a light pinging noise.

_Is that the microwave? What could Chuck possibly be cooking at this hour?_

She pulled on her robe, opened the door, and headed in the direction of the noise.

The kitchen light was on. The microwave was running, with a mug inside, and Chuck was emptying a bag of microwave popcorn into a bowl.

“Chuck?”

“Oh, hey, Kathy! Hungry?”

“Chuck, it’s 2:00 in the morning.”

“Is it? Oh, man, I didn’t wake you, did I? Shoot, Kathy, I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I guess I didn’t realize the microwave was that loud. I’m sorry. Do you want a cup of tea? That’s what I was making, but it’s no trouble to make one for you, or you could have this one, and I could make another for me, whatever, it’s no trouble, really, none at all.”

“No, thank you. I don’t want any tea.” Kathy yawned and rubbed her eyes, then scrubbed a hand through her hair. “Chuck, I think we need to have a chat.”

“Oh, crap.” The microwave dinged. “Hold that thought.” Chuck opened the microwave and removed the mug, setting it down on the counter and dunking a teabag in it the hot water. He added a spoonful of sugar, grabbed the mug and the bowl, and nodded toward the dining room table. Kathy sighed, followed him over to it, and sat down.

“Chuck, look. I’m happy to help you negotiate with the Winchesters, etc., and to have you stay here. You’re very sweet. But….”

“But I’m an inconsiderate jerk who wakes you up in the middle of the night when you need your rest. I’m sorry, Kathy. Go on back to bed, please, I’m so sorry.”

“That isn’t what I was going to say, Chuck.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I was going to say that I think you’ve thought about your offer and polished your writing to a sheen, and we need to reach out to Castiel about starting the talks. Pin them down on a date, time, location. You need to call your agent, too, and confirm that you can get the book published – it doesn’t help the Winchesters as a red herring if it doesn’t get out to the fans. We just need to get the ball rolling, okay?”

“Oh. Kathy… why are you being so helpful?”

“Because you’re in a tight spot. It’s one you created, but you feel badly about starting the fight, you don’t want to take it further, and you want to make things right – but no one’s listening. You asked me to help you get them to listen, and that makes me feel useful. I like being useful to the people I care about, Chuck.”

“You… care… about… me?”

“Of course I do.”

_“Why?”_

“Because you’re cute, and sweet, and caring, and giving. Yeah, you can be inconsiderate at times, but when it’s brought to your attention, you do something about it. You try to make things right. A lot of people don’t bother.”

“Ohh. Thank you, Kathy.” Chuck reached over and took her hand. She turned her hand in his, and gave his a gentle squeeze.

“You’re very welcome, Chuck. Don’t eat too much popcorn.” She smiled softly, and headed back to bed.

_She **does** think I’m cute._

Chuck smiled.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Hidden funds? Fraud? Doesn't sound like law-and-order Donna.... ;)
> 
> I looked it up, I don't think Gabriel was in an ep with Donna, ever. He honestly doesn't know who she is.
> 
> More snuggly sleepy Cas. :D
> 
> I think Chuck has a little crush on Kathy.... ;) What do you say, readers - should there be a ship name for these two? Chathy? Hmm.... Someone come up with a good ship name for them. ;)
> 
> Please, comment??? :)


	129. If the Shoe Fits...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas make plans for the day. Shann oversleeps and finds someone waiting for him at his car. Over the phone, Sam finds and explains the statute cited by Doug's attorney to Donna, and then Dean and Donna chat.

Dean woke slowly to the scent of coffee. He opened his eyes to find Cas, fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping from one mug, and holding another out to him.

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas smiled.

“Hey, Cas. How long have you been up?” Dean ran his hands through his hair, pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, and took the proffered mug.

“A couple of hours, now. Sam asked me to tell you that he had a call from Donna late last night. Her ex-husband is threatening her with legal action, so Sam is helping her with legal research. He didn’t give me more details than that. So, if you want to check in with Sam, then we can decide if we’re still going shopping, or if you need to do something to help Donna, instead.”

Dean set his coffee down on the nightstand. “First things first. C’mere.”

“I’m right here, Dean.”

“Come. Here.” Dean pulled Cas up the bed so he was also sitting up against the headboard, next to Dean. “Didn’t we agree that morning snuggles are important, Angel?”

“Well, yes, but we were snuggling all night, Dean.” Cas smiled.

“And? What’s your point?” Dean grinned, and put his arm around Cas’ shoulder.

“Oh, um, nothing.” Cas gave up even the pretense, and snuggled up to Dean. “Clearly, we’re not getting out of here until I give in to your wicked demands.”

“Clearly.” Dean hummed quietly, content.

“Dean? At some point last evening, was there a point where you were particularly… happy, or pleased, or feeling good about something?” Cas asked.

“Um… maybe.” Dean knew exactly which moment it was, but didn’t know how Cas knew. “Why?”

“There was a brilliant flash of light throughout the Bunker, just briefly, and it came from this general direction. Hannah, Balthazar, and Gabriel noticed it, as well. I had a theory that it might have been because you had a surge of emotion, probably a good one.”

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to go nuclear,” Dean said, chuckling self-deprecatingly.

Cas poked him. “Stop it. It’s good that you’re happy. I was just wondering about the flash, that’s all. Anything you want to tell me?”

“Um… yes, but not just yet. Do you mind? I’m kind of planning a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? Like a gift? Dean, you don’t have to give me things. You already gave me the best present – you.”

Dean blushed and bent to press a quick kiss against Cas’ forehead. “You get a choice. You can accept the surprise, or not. But you don’t get to find out what it is until I’m ready to give it to you. Fair?”

Cas pouted just a bit, but admitted, “Fair.”

“Okay. Then I’m going to go talk to Sam and find out what’s going on with Donna, and then I am taking you shopping. And what would you say to staying over?”

“Staying… where are you taking me shopping? Aren’t we just going into town?” Cas asked

“Nope. Lebanon’s a cute little town, but it doesn’t have what we need today, Cas. We need to get you basically a whole new wardrobe, and I need to run a couple of other errands, besides. We can’t do it here. I was thinking we’d go to Wichita. Three hour drive, one way, basically. So, we could, theoretically, do it all in one day and come back tonight. Or, we could take a break from being here, and stay over, take our time, come home tomorrow. What do you say, Cas? Your decision.”

“Well, you’d be the one doing all the driving, Dean. I think staying over sounds good, if we can get a nice room someplace.”

“I actually have an idea about that, but I’m going to call it part of the surprise, and invoke secrecy.” Dean grinned.

Cas peered up at Dean’s face intently. “This is going to be a surprise I’m going to _like_ , right?”

“I think so. I hope so.” Dean’s confidence faltered.

“Okay. I trust you, Dean.” Cas smiled and pulled Dean down to kiss him gently. “I won’t ask any more questions that might spoil your surprise. I will just ‘go with the flow.’”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Okay, Angel.”

***

Shann slapped off his alarm clock, and then actually opened one eye and glanced at the time. “No. Nonono, I did not just oversleep on my fourth day on the job. No. This isn’t happening.”

He jumped out of bed, and looked wildly around for a towel. Then he looked at the clock again, and realized it didn’t matter, he didn’t have time for a shower, anyway. He went to the closet and came out with a shirt and a pair of pants, to the dresser for underwear and socks. He dove into the clothes, and looked at the clock again.

_Shit. No time for anything. Thank God there’s coffee and breakfast at work._

He ran for the door. He ran back and got his coat. He ran for the door.

_Shit. Shitshitshit._

He pounded the button for the elevator. It dinged and the door opened. He got in and hit the button for the garage. The door closed. The elevator started downward.

_Why is thing moving so slowly today?_

The elevator dinged and the door opened to the garage. Shann got out and headed for his car. He kept his head down, trying to move as quickly as possible without tripping; the concrete floors of the garage were cracked and uneven. About four feet from his car, he looked up, and was startled to see someone standing by – no, leaning back against – his car door. He stopped in his tracks.

“Hello, Mr. Murray.”

***

Dean entered the library to find Sam talking on his cell phone.

“Yeah… Okay, so you said they cited clauses (2) and (3), right? Of part (2) of the section?... Okay. So, part (2) of the section says: ‘On motion and upon terms as are just, the court may relieve a party from a judgment and decree, order, or proceeding under this chapter, except for provisions dissolving the bonds of marriage, annulling the marriage, or directing that the parties are legally separated, and may order a new trial or grant other relief as may be just for the following reasons….’ And what that means, Donna, is that if a party to a divorce, like you, or Doug, discovers that one of the listed reasons applies, then the court can revise the terms of the final divorce decree. The judge can’t say you’re married again, you’re still divorced, but he could change the terms of the property settlement, and it looks like that’s what Doug is going for.

“Clause (2) of part (2) says that one of the reasons is that the party making the motion has found ‘(2) newly discovered evidence which by due diligence could not have been discovered in time to move for a new trial under the Rules of Civil Procedure….” And what that means is that the Rules of Civil Procedure give a timeline, a deadline, for how long a party can move for a new trial, but if there is some new piece of evidence which the moving party could not have found in time to meet that deadline, then the Rule deadline doesn’t apply, the statute section’s deadline applies instead. It basically gives Doug an extension of time on the grounds that he found some new piece of evidence.

“Clause (3) says that another reason is ‘(3) fraud, whether denominated intrinsic or extrinsic, misrepresentation, or other misconduct of an adverse party.’ And what that means is that if the party making the motion finds out, after the divorce is final, that the other party committed fraud, a misrepresentation, or some kind of misconduct during the divorce proceeding that actually had to do with the divorce proceeding, then they can reopen the divorce proceeding, to again, in this case, change the terms of the property settlement.”

Sam waved Dean in and gestured for him to sit down; Dean came over to the table and took a chair to wait.

“Uhhuh, yeah…. Well, your attorney should ask Doug’s attorney what they think they’ve found…. Was there a brief filed with the motion? Did they send you a copy?... Ask your attorney if he can find a record of a brief… Usually, when someone files a motion, they want to explain to the court why they’re doing it. The court doesn’t have to schedule the hearing without receiving both sides’ written arguments. Sometimes the clerk will schedule a hearing date, but they have to make it far enough out that both sides can file their documents… Right… Okay…. Well, I’ll keep looking at ways to head things off procedurally, but it would really help to know what they’re arguing… Yeah… Okay, well, call me when you’ve spoken with her… Right… No, I’ll be here all day, and this is my cell phone anyway… Okay, sweetheart. Don’t stress. You and I both know that you did not commit any kind of fraud… Okay… Yeah, Dean’s right here… Sure. Hold on.”

Sam put a hand over the phone. “She wants to talk to you for a sec.” Sam held the phone out to Dean, who took it.

“Hey, Donna, what’s going on, hon?” Dean asked.

_“Oh, Dean, I got home at midnight after a double shift, checked the mail, there was a letter from Doug’s attorney, saying they’re looking to reopen the divorce judgment on the grounds that I was hiding money from Doug during the marriage and from the court during the divorce. I don’t know what they’re talking about, Dean, you know I have nothin’ ta hide!”_

“Of course we know that, sweetheart. I heard part of Sam’s side of the conversation, sounds like he found the statute they’re trying to use?”

_“Yeah, he found it, and he explained it, but I have no clue what Doug’s attorney’s talking about, using that statute in reference to me. I’m so sorry to bother you boys, but Sam was the only person I could reach who would know what it meant when I opened this, and, well, oofta, I gotta say, Dean, I’m kinda freakin’ out.”_

“Well, like Sam said, we all know you did nothing wrong, Donna. You just don’t have it in you. Now, don’t stress out, we’re here for you, Jody and the girls are, too, and we’ll figure this out, and take care of it. You get a hold of your attorney when her office opens, first thing, get her moving on it, and then just let it go for the day, okay? Don’t let Doug hold you back, Donna.

“And hey, Donna, you want some good news?” Dean asked.

“ _Oh, I sure could use some, Dean_ ,” Donna replied.

“You remember Cas, don’t you?”

“ _Oh, sure, the angel who uses Claire’s dad’s dead body, mmhmm, sure do_.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, that’s Cas. Well, Donna, um….”

“ _Dean Winchester, you had better be about to tell me that you and Cas finally got your heads on straight and realized you love each other_.”

Dean threw up his hands. “Really, Donna? What, were we wearing neon signs, or something? Did everyone know but us?”

“ _If the shoe fits, Dean_.” Donna laughed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cas, having to give in to Dean's wicked demands for snuggles. ;)
> 
> Poor Shann, oversleeping and then being confronted by someone at his car. I wonder who it is? ;)
> 
> Poor Donna. Poor Sam, staying up most of the night doing research. Poor Dean, wearing a heavy neon sign like that; must get hot. ;)
> 
> Please comment!!!!!!!!


	130. This Chapter Gives 'Don't Kill the Messenger...' A Whole New Meaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann gets messages for Sam and Dean, and relays them. Sam and Dean chat.

Shann looked warily at the stranger. From the voice, it was a woman, but she was in shadow, and Shann couldn’t make out her features at all. “Um… hello…?”

“My name is Billie, Mr. Murray. I also happen to be Death.”

Shann gulped for air. “ _Death_?” he squeaked.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Murray. I’m not here for you today. Not for some time, in fact.

“No, I just have a message for your employer, Mr. Winchester. You _do_ work for Sam Winchester, do you not? Goes by Sam Wesson for legal reasons, dates the Archangel Gabriel? Ringing any bells, Mr. Murray?”

Shann nodded. “Um… What’s the message?”

“You tell Sam that Billie said to tell him this: ‘You need to take the position you were born to take, and Dean needs to go the opposite way. You can both do it, and you’ll have my support.’ Can you remember that, Mr. Murray?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So polite. You can call me Billie, son. Like I said, I’m not looking for you today for anything more than delivery of my messages.” Billie stepped forward into the light and smiled. “And tell Dean this, too: ‘Billie says your books have changed again, and you’re back to multiple options, none of them immediate.’ You got that?”

“Sure…um… Billie. I got it.”

“Repeat both messages back for me, I want to just be sure.”

“Okay. I’m to tell Sam, ‘ _You need to take the position you were born to take, and Dean needs to go the opposite way. You can both do it, and you’ll have my support_.’ And then tell Dean, ‘ _Billie says your books have changed again, and you’re back to multiple options, none of them immediate_.’ Can I just ask – will they know what all of this _means?_ What position was Sam _born_ to take?”

“Oh, sugar, you’re just a confused little innocent, aren’t you? Yes, they’ll both know exactly what I mean. As for Sam… well, you ask _him_ , sugar. Maybe he’ll even tell you.

“Have a good day at work, Mr. Murray. I estimate you’ll be about ten minutes late, unless I do this….”

Billie snapped her fingers.

***

Shann blinked. He was about four feet from his car still, but now he and the car were both in the parking lot outside the Bunker’s front door.

_I have such a headache._

He found his key in his coat pocket, went over to the door, opened it, and went in to start the day.

Coming down the iron steps, he saw Gabriel coming out of the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Gabriel, do you know where Sam and Dean are?” he asked.

“Library. Muffins will be out of the oven in about ten minutes, and that’ll have to do for breakfast today, unless you want cereal. Cas let Dean sleep in.” Gabriel grinned.

Shann smiled back and headed for the library.

“Sam? Dean? May I have a moment?” The brothers had been talking to each other, but looked over at him and gave him their attention. “I have a message for each of you… from a woman named Billie. She said she also goes by Death.”

The brothers sat up a little straighter, and Dean glanced at Sam before looking back at Shann.

“What’s the message for me, Shann?” Sam asked.

“Billie said to tell you that ‘ _You need to take the position you were born to take, and Dean needs to go the opposite way. You can both do it, and you’ll have my support_.’”

“And the message for me?” Dean inquired.

“Billie said to tell you that ‘ _Billie says your books have changed again, and you’re back to multiple options, none of them immediate_.’ She said both of you would know exactly what she meant.”

“Okay. I hope Billie didn’t freak you out too much, Shann,” Sam said, sympathetically.

“Well, she did, but she did tell me that she’s not coming for me, not for some time. ' _So I got that goin' for me_.'”

Dean snorted, picking up on the _Caddyshack_ reference. “Well, Sam, mine’s good news, at least. Yours, not so much.”

“Y’think? Oy.” Sam sighed.

“What position were you ‘ _born to take_ ,’ Sam? I asked Billie, but she said I should ask you,” Shann said.

Dean laughed. “Didn’t get around to telling him about _that_ , Sam?”

“No, I did, I just think he forgot. Shann, remember when I told you that I was destined to be Lucifer’s ‘true vessel’? Apparently, there are some who believe that I was also born to be….”

“ _’The Boy-King of Hell,’_ ” Dean finished dramatically, chortling.

Sam flushed. “Apparently, there are some downstairs who still want me to take the throne.”

“Wait. Who’s on the throne _now_?” Shann asked.

“Well, it was Crowley, but he killed himself for us as the sacrifice to open the rift from Apocalypse World. It was Asmodeus for a while, but he’s dead. I don’t know if _anyone_ is on the throne now, actually,” Sam said.

“It might be Ro, Sam. I wouldn’t put it past her,” Dean grinned.

“Ro?” Shann asked, face blank.

“Rowena. Crowley’s mother. I told you about her the other day, remember?” Sam prodded.

“Oh, right.” Shann slumped into a chair. “I thought you said you’d _killed_ Rowena, Sam?”

“I did. Stabbed her in the gut with a demon-killing knife. But we know she went to Hell and she was collecting souls on her way down. So, yeah, she might have had enough power when she landed to take over.”

“Headache, Shann?” Dean asked, noting that the poor guy was rubbing his temples gently. “You know, Cas can f….”

“ _Fix it for me,_ yes, I’ve been told.” Shann sighed. “I think I just need caffeine. Sam, you need coffee?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

Shann wandered off in search of the brown liquid elixir of life. Dean turned back to Sam.

“By the way, I’m taking Cas shopping down in Wichita, and we’re planning to stay over. Do you need anything that you can’t get in town or on Amazon?” Dean asked.

“Can’t think of anything. What do you need that can’t be had in town?” Sam inquired.

“Well, Cas really does need a whole new wardrobe, poor guy’s been wearing Jimmy’s threadbare suit for eleven years, interspersed with pjs he ‘borrowed’ from me, and sweats he stole from you. He needs everything, including a decent winter coat, that trench coat doesn’t keep out the cold, and ….”

“Dean, he’s an angel, he doesn’t _get_ cold,” Sam cut in.

“Not the point, Sam. If he’s trying to _fit in_ , he can’t be wearing a flimsy trench coat in the dead of winter. Plus…” Dean trailed off.

“…Plus?” Sam asked.

Dean looked around and dropped the volume of his voice. “Keep a secret?”

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud. How old are you, ten?”

“Seriously, Sam. I want to surprise him, and if you tell Gabe, he’ll call Cas and spoil it.”

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “What’s the big secret?”

“While Cas is trying stuff on, I’m going to the jeweler’s, to see if I can find a nice set of matching….”

“Oh my…. Dean, are you propos….?”

“Shhh. _Keep it down_ , Sam!”

“Sorry! You are! You really _are_!” Sam whispered.

“If I can find the right things, yeah. I think something real simple and plain, with an engraving maybe. What do you think?” Dean asked quietly.

Sam hopped up and hugged his brother. “I think it’s amazing, and whatever you choose will be perfect, because no one knows Cas better’n you, Dean.” Sam suddenly had a thought. “You’re not planning on staying at that _awful_ motel in Wichita that Dad always used to insist on, are you? Please tell me you’re gonna stay somewhere _nice_ , Dean.”

“Yeah. I made reservations even. It’s a little B&B it’s in the city, but not right downtown, kinda on the outskirts, but in a nice neighborhood - quiet, lots of trees and gardens, cute little place. I’ve never stayed there, but I always thought that if I had the cash, it’d be the way to go, y’know? Well, thanks to Claire's gift, I think I can splurge just a little on occasion, right?”

“Definitely. This is a splurge occasion if there ever was one, Dean.” Sam nodded.

Just then, Gabe stuck his head in to let them know the muffins were ready, so they headed toward the kitchen.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Shann. Well, at least he needn't worry about dying any time soon. ;)
> 
> As for Dean's plans... squee! Sorry. I can't help it. ;)
> 
> Comments, pleeeeeeeease??? :D


	131. Thinking Too Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean journals and makes a second draft of a proposal to Cas. Dean and Gabe chat. Dean and Cas get on the road. Donna meets with her attorney.

Cas had decided that if they were going to be staying overnight, he needed to take some things along; so, he was in what had originally been his bedroom (and was now what they considered their storage room), packing.

In the meantime, Dean was in their bedroom, taking care of his therapy homework. He seated himself at his desk, got out the notebook and pen, and uncapped the pen, letting himself enjoy the little ritual of it all. And then he began to write.

***

**_ Wednesday morning _ **

_Billie was waiting for Shann in his garage this morning; fortunately, she just wanted him to pass on some messages, she wasn’t there for **him** (and interestingly, told him that she wouldn’t be coming for him for some time; I don’t remember Billie ever being comforting like that to anyone before). She had a message for Sam – _ _“You need to take the position you were born to take, and Dean needs to go the opposite way. You can both do it, and you’ll have my support” – and one for me – “your books have changed again, and you’re back to multiple options, none of them immediate.”_

_Her message for **Sam** is clear, insofar as what she wants him to do; she wants him to take the throne in Hell. But saying that I need “to go the **opposite** way”? That’s as clear as mud. _

_Her message for me, though, that’s obvious – my “books” are the books of the various ways my life could go, and end. The last time Billie mentioned them to me was when I had Michael as a captive in my mind, and she was giving me the solution of the Ma’lak Box, and telling me that all of my various books had changed to indicate it was the only way out of the situation with Michael – and my only available endgame. What she’s saying now is that they’ve changed back to the original myriad of possible endings, and that none of them will happen anytime soon – which I guess is comforting._

_I’m finally getting around to taking Cas shopping. We’re going to Wichita overnight; Lebanon’s just too small to have everything Cas needs – which is basically **everything**. I swear, once we get him outfitted properly, I’m **burning** Jimmy’s suit, and that damned trench coat!_

_I told Cas that while he’s trying on clothes, I have some errands to run – and I do. I’m picking out matching engagement bands for us. I’m proposing to my angel tonight._

_I made reservations for us to stay at this little B &B called the Wellington Place Inn. I’ve never stayed there, but I’ve seen it a few times and always thought it was gorgeous. I also made dinner reservations at this steakhouse called the Scotch and Sirloin. I haven’t eaten there, but I found it online in a list of the most romantic restaurants in the city, and hey – whisky and steak? How can it miss? Of course, I won’t be having any booze, but I honestly don’t even miss it. I never got even close to one one-hundredth of what I get from being with Cas from alcohol, no matter how much I drank. _

_It’s funny how nervous I’m **not**. I know what I want. **I want** **Cas**. He’s said he wants me, too, and that he’ll never leave me, so I’m hoping that surprising him with this will work out the way I want it to, with him saying yes. _

_I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of my angel, and having it be my legal right to do so. I want to be obligated, legally **required** , to take care of him. _

_I’m done worrying about what I deserve. This is what I **want**. And if it’s what Cas wants, too, then I want to give it to him. And I want to start tonight._

***

_Dear Cas:_

_I love you. I am in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of my angel, and having it be my legal right to do so. I want to be obligated, legally required, to take care of you, always. And so I have a question for you, Angel – will you please marry me?_

_Dean_

***

Dean wasn’t really satisfied with that second draft, either. Too short. He’d have to try again, in a while. But for now, he wanted to get on the road… just as soon as he’d had a short word with Gabriel. He put the notebook and pen away in his duffel bag, which he’d already packed, and slung the bag over his shoulder.

***

Dean entered the kitchen, where Gabe was taking a fresh pan of muffins out of the oven.

“Gabe? A word?” he said.

“One sec, Dean-o.” Gabe set the muffin tin down on the counter and put a new pan of cookies into the oven to bake.

“You running a bakery out of the Bunker’s kitchen, Gabe?” Dean teased gently, grinning.

“I might as well be, between Balthazar’s love of cookies, and Sam and Shann coming in here every twenty minutes for more coffee, ‘oh and I might as well have another of these delicious muffins, thank you.’ Even Hannah ate two muffins this morning, after specifically telling me, ‘oh, I don’t bother to eat,’ that liar. So, what do you need, Dean?”

Dean took a seat at the table and gestured for Gabriel to join him. The Archangel quirked a brow, but came over and sat down.

“Remember the ‘welcome to the family’ talk you gave me last week? Well, I hear that I have the same duty now. So, officially, welcome to the Winchester family. You were already part of it, through Cas, but now, you being together with Sam as a couple, that makes you part of it all on your own. Be warned: if you hurt my brother, while I know there isn’t much that _I_ can do to you, remember that I’m with _Cas_ , who also loves Sam like a brother, and he’ll have your ass. Except that I know you _won’t_ hurt Sam, will you, Gabe?” Dean looked at Gabe sternly.

Gabe smiled brightly. “Really? Sam told you about us?”

“Duh. He didn’t give me details, and I don’t want them. But yes, he said you’re now ‘officially together’ – so, again, don’t hurt my brother, and we’re good. Got it?”

“Got it.” Gabe nodded and tried to look appropriately solemn. He failed.

“Good. And now, I’m taking Cas shopping. We’ll be down in Wichita overnight, so, see you tomorrow, Gabe.

“Oh, and by the way, Gabe… I never got a chance to welcome Jess to the family – she was killed before I’d hardly said more than hello to her – and I never got to meet Amelia. I was present at Sam’s ‘wedding’ to Becky, but hardly in favor of it, so I didn’t bother to welcome her. Madison had to be put down by Sam, at her own request, after they’d had just the one night together. _I_ killed Amy Pond. And Sam’s never brought a boy home before. So, you’re the first recipient of that little speech. And I’d really prefer not to have to make it again. So, make this work, huh?”

Gabe nodded, and now had no trouble at all looking solemn - and a touch worried.

***

Dean met Cas at the door to the garage. They got their bags stowed in Baby’s trunk, got in the car, and got on the road. Cas showed Dean a cassette tape and quirked his brow in question. Dean nodded, grinning, and Cas popped the tape in and pressed play. It was the mixtape that Dean had made for Cas, with Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin songs. When Cas had left, he’d unintentionally left it in the car. He had retrieved it when they’d taken the first ride with Jack driving.

Cas was trying very hard not to listen to Dean’s thoughts. Dean wanted to surprise him, and Cas wanted to let him. But Dean’s excitement was high and his thoughts were unintentionally loud, and so Cas had more than a glimmer of what the surprise might be. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his face passive and unexcited. He really didn’t want to spoil the surprise for Dean by failing to act appropriately surprised. But he knew already what his answer would be, once Dean got around to asking the question. For now, he’d just enjoy the ride. It was a beautiful, sunny day, unseasonably warm. He rolled down his window about an inch for some fresh air, and smiled as the breeze rushed in.

It was going to be a _very_ good day.

***

Donna was having a _very_ bad day. Her attorney had told her, in no uncertain terms, to take the morning off and come in to her office, so they could get to the bottom of Doug’s motion. She’d been sitting in the office for ten minutes, and her attorney had been on the phone with Doug’s attorney almost the entire time, their voices raised, her attorney pacing behind her desk. Finally, the call ended, and her attorney seated herself, and made a visible effort to relax.

“Ugh, I hate that guy. He was in my class at law school, and he was swarmy _then_. Okay, Donna, they’re claiming that you hid over seven hundred thousand dollars. Got any idea what they’re talking about?”

Donna started to shake her head no, and then it dawned on her.

_Claire’s gift. He’s after Claire’s gift._

“A friend of mine, Claire Novak – she recently received a large payout, over eight million dollars, on her father’s life insurance policy. She gave large gifts of money to several people, including myself. I received a cashier’s check for seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I had driven to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to spend the weekend with Claire, her foster mother, Sheriff Jody Mills, and her foster sisters, Alex Jones and Amy Daniels. I drove over on Friday night, and Claire handed me an envelope almost as soon as I walked in the door. It had a ‘thinking of you’ kind of card, and inside the card was the check. I sat right down on the floor, I was that surprised. I drove back on Sunday, went into work early on Monday morning so I could take a slightly longer-than-normal break, and on my break, I went to the bank to deposit the check.”

“So you got this check on Friday, you deposited it on Monday, and by Tuesday at midnight, there was already a motion in your mailbox… did you keep the envelope, Donna?” her attorney asked.

“Well, I… I don’t know. I don’t remember what I did with it, exactly. To be honest, I probably threw it out, but it would still be in the waste basket in my living room, most likely. Why?”

“Because if they found out about the money through your deposit on Monday, _i.e._ , someone at the bank tipped them off about it, they didn’t have time to draft that motion and mail it to you and have it show up in your Tuesday mail. So, if the basis of the motion is this gift, they had to have hand-delivered it to your mailbox, and that’s improper service – hand delivery requires a signature, so they should have taken it to your office and gotten one, not left it in with your mail, which might also be a violation of the mail fraud laws, but I’d have to check. When you get home, try to find that envelope, see if it has postage on it, and if that postage was cancelled by the post office or not.

“If it was mailed, and the postmark date is before Monday, then it’s probably _not_ this gift that they’re after. And if that’s the only thing you can think of, we’re going in to this hearing with no idea of what they’re trying to get, and I don’t like being in that position. I can file a motion asking the court to ask them to provide particular details, but there’s no guarantee that it gets granted before the hearing on their motion, and then we’d have to wait and have a second hearing, and that runs up your costs, because I have to go to court twice.

“Also, it appears they didn’t send a copy of the motion to _me_ , despite knowing that I represent you, and that’s a violation of the ethical rules – when you know someone is represented, you contact their attorney, not them. And I _will_ be bringing that up with the Office of Lawyers Professional Responsibility.

“One other thing, Donna; how long ago was your divorce from Doug final? In October 2018, right?”

“You betcha. October 4, 2018, a date which will live in infamy.” Donna tried to smile, but failed.

“So, a little over a year ago? Excellent. In that case, Donna, there may be no need for concern, at all.”

“Um, why not?” Donna asked.

“Well, the statute they’re relying on gives them an extension past the date the Rules of Civil Procedure say is the last day you can ask for a new trial, but when the motion under the statute is brought citing clauses (1), (2), or (3), there’s a one-year limit. They brought their motion citing clauses (2) and (3), but it’s been just over a year. They’re out of time to file. Doesn’t mean we don’t have to answer it, on all grounds, just in case. But it does mean it should be easier to get the court to deny their motion.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All references to Minnesota statutes are accurate and based on the real thing. ;)
> 
> Three chapters in three days, and only one comment. Y'all are killing me. Grr.  
> All right, then. There will be no more chapters posted until I get some darned comments! 
> 
> Pleeease? *sniffle*


	132. Decisions, Deductions, and More Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean check in to the B&B. Dean bribes a sales clerk to help Cas, then departs to buy rings. Donna finds the envelope and calls Jody. Dean comes back for Cas and his new clothes.

Cas gasped as Dean turned off the street and into the parking lot of the Wellington Place Inn. This place was obviously a far cry from their regular flea-bag motels.

“Dean? Are you sure you want to stay… _here_? This place looks really expensive.” Cas looked around, a little nervously.

“Cas, it’s fine. Don’t even have to resort to credit card fraud. Claire’s gifts, remember? Cas, we don’t have to live like paupers anymore. Between Claire’s gifts, and Sam and I inheriting Bobby’s house and the Yard and its inventory, we actually have money, now. Now, I’m not saying we should just blow money all the time, but every once in a while, it’s okay to treat ourselves. I actually talked with Sam about it, and he agreed. So, I would like to celebrate the fact that you and I are finally _together_ with a nice night for the two of us, and a new wardrobe for you. I got us reservations here, and dinner reservations at a restaurant, and I think it’ll be nice.”

“Is this the surprise?” Cas asked.

“It’s part of it. There will be more, later, if you play your cards right.” Dean smirked a little, then took Cas’ hand in his, and squeezed gently. “Of course, if you’d _prefer_ , we can always just stay at the Motel 6 off the highway – oh, wait; no, we can’t, they finally _condemned_ it last month.”

Cas smiled. “All right, my heart. Since the Motel 6 is unavailable, I guess this place will just have to do.”

***

At the store they went to for clothes for Cas, Dean took the sales clerk aside briefly, out of Cas’ hearing. Dean explained to the clerk that Cas needed an entire new wardrobe, start to finish, including a good winter coat, and that cost was not a factor. “Anything he wants, so long as it fits and doesn’t otherwise make him look ridiculous. He’s going to have to try everything on to see what he likes; please let him take his time.” Dean handed the clerk two one-hundred dollar bills. “You’ll take care of him personally?” The clerk nodded, smiling.

“Cas? This gentleman is going to take care of you while I go and run my errands. You need literally everything, so take your time, figure out what you like, and don’t stint – if you like it, get it. But try everything on and make sure it fits, okay? I’ll be back in a little while, Angel. Have fun!” Dean kissed Cas’ cheek quick, grinned at him, and set out on his own.

He’d brought Cas to that particular store first because of its proximity to the jewelry store down the block, as well as for the inventory he knew it carried. He might not have shopped there often himself, but not all of Dean’s “fed suits” had come from WalMart (although they'd probably stop there, too, for sweats, socks, and underwear). He went down the block at a good clip, wanting to get the rings and get back before Cas started to feel overwhelmed. He turned in to the jeweler’s, and smiled.

As soon as he walked through the door, a sales clerk approached. “May I help you, sir?”

“Hi. I’m looking for matching engagement bands for myself and my partner. I’d like something simple, no stones, and is it possible to have engraving done today?” Dean asked.

“If you find what you want, yes, we do engraving in-house and can have that done immediately. To confirm, this is a same-sex partnership? We have a wide variety of matching bands specifically for same-sex relationships, right over here.”

Dean nodded.

“We have bands in quite a few metals. Gold, rose gold, silver, platinum; oh, and tungsten has been quite popular lately. The more simple bands are over here, and then as you move down this way, the designs with patterns and gemstones become more complicated; as you indicated you preferred something simple, without stones, you’d want to look at these first.” The clerk pulled two trays out of the showcase and set them on top of the glass.

Dean looked through the samples in the trays, but then something in the display case caught his eye, and he pointed to a different tray. “Can I see those, please?”

The clerk smiled and brought out the third tray. “This designer’s work is well-liked.”

“I can see why,” Dean said, admiring the entire tray. One set in particular had his attention; it had a kind of engraved-inlay pattern that almost looked like… wings? with a small diamond set flat into the center. “What can you tell me about this set?”

“Ah, that’s part of the Angelic Collection. We used to have a wider selection from it, but that’s the last set we carry from it now. The metal in the interior of the rings is silver, with the exterior being a rose gold and white gold inlay. The diamond is frankly just a chip, but you had said you weren’t interested in gemstones, anyway. The pattern suggests an angel’s wings, with the diamond chip in the center indicating the angel’s heart.”

“It’s not what I was envisioning originally, but honestly, this is perfect.”

Dean gave the clerk the ring sizes he needed; fortunately, the store had them in stock. The clerk put the trays back in the display case, and they discussed the engravings Dean wanted. The engraving took a little under thirty minutes, and Dean had paid and left the store with a ring box in his pocket in less than an hour. He headed back to the clothing store to find Cas, whistling cheerfully as he walked up the block.

***

Donna found the envelope in her living room trash; it had cancelled stamps and a postmark, so it _had_ gone through the mail.

_Weird. How could they have known about Claire’s gift in time to write a motion and mail it to me?_

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Jody.

“Hey, Donna, what’s up?” Jody answered immediately.

“Oh, Jody, I’m so glad I got you! Doug is causing me trouble again.”

“What? What’s he doing now?” Jody asked.

Donna told Jody what was going on, what Sam had told her about the statute, and what her attorney had said about the motion being filed too soon to make sense. “And then I got home and found the envelope, and it was mailed last Friday, before Claire even gave me the check, which just makes _no sense_ , Jodes!”

“Unless he wasn’t tipped off by _your_ bank, but by _Claire’s_. Claire got the cashier’s checks ready a while before she gave you yours; she mailed the checks to the boys and Cas, but she knew you would be here, so she held on to yours to give it to you when you came over. If someone from _her bank_ tipped Doug off, then the timing makes more sense,” Jody pointed out.

“Well, but how would someone in a bank in South Dakota know to tell someone in Minnesota that their ex-wife was getting a gift? I mean, you’re right, it’s the only way it all makes sense in terms of the timeline, but the… _casting_? if that’s the right word… doesn’t make any sense, then.”

“I agree, but no one else who knew about the money would have told Doug about it,” Jody pointed out. “At this end, it was me, Alex, and Claire; none of _us_ would have said anything. The boys knew, and Cas; _they_ wouldn’t have said anything to anyone. And _you_ didn’t know until Friday night. The only other people who knew were the people at Claire’s bank. Unless there’s some _other_ over seven hundred thousand dollar gift you were hiding, Donna.”

“Oofta. Well, I’ll tell my attorney when I speak with her again tomorrow. It’s all just so _weird_. I know, I know, weird is kinda what we do – but not _this kind_ of weird!”

***

Cas was in over his head. He was sitting in the fitting room, which looked like a tornado had hit, completely overwhelmed with the variety of available clothing. He couldn’t make a choice if his life had depended upon it, and he was starting to hyperventilate when Dean entered.

“Dean! Oh, am I _glad_ to see you!”

“What the….” Dean looked around, aghast. The sales clerk was nowhere to be seen, Cas was alone and clearly upset, and there was clothing everywhere. “Did you find anything you liked, at least?”

Cas looked up at him blankly, then tilted his head to the right and peered at him. “You know, you were right, all those years ago.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to look blank. “Huh?”

“You _don’t_ deserve to be saved! How could you leave me here with all… this?!” Cas erupted.

Dean stood stock still for one moment. Then he couldn’t help it. He _giggled_. Not a belly laugh, not a chuckle, not a huffed-out snort of a laugh. No, Dean outright giggled. And then he just lost it, and went to his knees in the middle of the fitting room in a fit of laughter. And after a moment, Cas joined in. The two of them were on the floor, laughing hysterically, when the sales clerk returned, with a scarf in his hand that matched the blue of Cas’ eyes. Cas and Dean looked up at the clerk, then at the scarf. Dean choked down his laughter, took the scarf from the clerk (who looked a little afraid of them, by now), and wrapped it around Cas’ neck.

“Well, if nothing else, Angel, we found you a _scarf_.” That set Cas off again, which set Dean off again.

The sales clerk timidly asked, “Well, sir, did you find anything you liked?” That set them both off, yet again.

At last, Dean got himself together, and got himself and Cas up off the floor. “All right, Angel, let’s buckle down and see what we can find for you.”

Dean got things organized, and with him there to make suggestions and comment on what looked good, Cas found it easier to make choices. Two nice suits, some casual slacks, a few sweaters, some button-down shirts, a few Henley shirts, a couple of pairs of jeans, and two winter coats – a navy pea coat for dressier occasions, and a parka for really cold weather. And, of course, the _scarf_.

They carried their haul out to the car and put it in the backseat, and Dean drove them back to the Inn so they could get ready for dinner.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmph. Well, whether you lovely people comment or not, I may have to take a break. I just spent five hours at the hospital getting poked, prodded, and X'rayed, and apparently I've f'ed up my left Achilles tendon. I have to keep my foot up, so I can't be spending hour upon hour at my PC. :( OW. *sniffle*
> 
> I don't wanna take a break, so I'll do what I can, but it may go from 3 updates a day down to 1 every other day. 
> 
> I'm sowwy. I love you guys. :(


	133. Rings and Things...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean works on his homework, and his proposal. Dean and Cas have dinner. Dean proposes.

Dean still had his letter to himself to write as therapy homework for the day, so while Cas unpacked things from the myriad of bags collected at the store and then took himself off for a shower, Dean seated himself at the desk in their room, got out his notebook and pen, and started to write.

***

_Dear Dean,_

_You’re just eight years old. You should be in school, but you’ve had only a few days here and there, and everything else you know is basically self-taught. Good thing Mom read to you so much when you were little that you knew how to read by the age of three, or you’d never have learned anything else (thanks, Mom!)._

_I know you’re sick of taking care of Sammy, and I know he gets on your nerves; he can’t help it, he’s only just turned four, still younger than you were when Mom died in the fire. And when he specifically asks for something for dinner, and then, once it’s made, says he no longer wants it, I know how crazy you get. I remember. I don’t blame you a bit. But remember, Dean, he doesn’t do it to hurt you. He has no idea how often you’ll go without food to make sure he has some. He has no clue how worried you are, how desperate you are for someone to take care of **you** – because you take such good care of **him**. And that’s exactly how you want it, Dean. _

_You don’t want Sammy to know what it’s like to be you. You don’t want Sammy to know how it feels to constantly be in terror. You want at least one of you to have a chance at being normal, and you know already it will never be you. Sammy’s got the best chance by far at being normal, at having a happy life, and you want that for him, no matter what you have to do to get it for him. You’d do literally anything for that kid, including going to Hell itself._

_I understand the impulse to just want a minute to yourself, to want some fresh air, to breathe. To have a few hours of being a kid, able to play a game for a while, without fear of the consequences. I get it, I do. But that’s just not your life, Dean. Because every time you’re just a kid, Sammy’s endangered. And you won’t let anything happen to Sammy, not ever._

_So when Dad lays down the law, when he gives you an order, you’ll take his crap, and you’ll follow his orders, because when you don’t, things go to shit, and Sam gets hurt. And Sam cannot be hurt. That’s the real prime directive: Sam must be kept safe. Always._

_Means you won’t have much of a life for a long time, but hey, it’s worth it. It’s Sam. Sorry, kiddo, but your brother comes first._

_Until you’re forty. And then Sam makes you get therapy, you put yourself first for a change, and you realize that the love of your life is the angel who’s been your best friend for eleven years, and Sam’s all for it. And you realize: it was worth it. Because Sam turned out to be a really good man, and he’s gone to Hell for you, too. And that little kid? You raised him right, Dean. He’s the man he is because of **you**. And you’re his hero._

_So, throw out the canned pasta you heated up for him to eat at his request, and give him the last of the Lucky Charms he wants now. It’ll be okay. It’s all going to be okay, Dean. Really. Someday._

_And someday, is today. I’m proposing to my angel today. Wish me luck._

_Dean_

***

_Dear Cas,_

_I am in love with you, and I know that you will always be it, for me, because no one else could possibly understand me better or know more of me, than you. You’ve seen my soul. And the miracle is, you love me anyway. You know what I did in Hell. You know what I did as a demon, bearing the Mark. You know my every evil deed, my every twisted thought, my every horrible impulse. And, despite it all, you love me. You insist that I’m enough, that I’m good, that I deserve good things, that my soul shines, that I make you happy. I can’t pretend to understand how it is that you can possibly feel that way, but I am so glad that you do._

_I don’t want to hurt you, not ever. I don’t want to shut you out any more. I’m done with blaming you, and pushing at you, and sniping at you. I just want to love you, and be with you. And I know that you’ve said that you love me, that you’re in love with me, and that you’ll never leave me. That if I went away, you’d come after me. So, I’m hoping that that means you’ll go along with what I’m going to say next._

_Castiel, you've_ _been my best friend for more than a quarter of my life. I’d like you to be my husband for the rest of it. Will you please marry me?_

_Dean_

***

Dean read through the three different versions, and thought the third was the best. It was shorter than the first, but contained all of the important points he’d tried to cover in it. It was longer than the second, but not so long that he’d lose the thread of it, trying to say it. And it didn’t dither. It got to the point. It was what he wanted to say.

_Now, if I can just make myself actually say it._

Well, there was always the fall back – he had it written out, and if he couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth, he’d just give Cas the written version. He’d rather say it out loud, but one way or another, he was doing this tonight.

***

The restaurant was a ten-minute drive across town. Dean glanced over at Cas between parking Baby and removing the key from the ignition. Castiel had worn one of his new suits, and his new Navy pea coat, with the blue scarf, and he looked _hot_. Dean flushed a little with pride at being out with his Angel. Dean knew that he looked good, too; he was wearing his best navy suit and a camel dress overcoat. As Cas was getting out of the car, Dean surreptitiously checked his pocket; he had the ring box, he had the written version of what he wanted to say, it was all good. He got out of the car and took a deep breath; the cold air was bracing.

They were about five minutes early for their reservation, and Dean was expecting to wait, so it was a nice surprise that the maître d’ led them to their table immediately. Dean had done his research ahead of time, and when he’d made the reservation, he’d specifically asked for a quiet table in a corner, out of the way; the table to which they were led met that specification perfectly. The waiter came with menus and took their drink order – Cas asked for a glass of iced tea, Dean wanted coffee; they both requested ice water – and promised to return shortly.

Cas whispered, “Dean, you know I don’t need to eat.”

“I know, Angel. But this place makes a mean crème brulee, and that’s mostly sugar; Gabe says you guys can taste sugar, right? So, compromise with me a little. I need to eat, and this place has good food. It has a nice atmosphere, it’s quiet, we have a nice table, and part of the surprise is still coming, okay? So, if you have to just move food around on your plate and pretend to eat, that’s okay; if you want to try to eat, good; if you eat nothing but dessert, that’s fine, too. And in the meantime, we both look really nice, we can have a conversation while I eat, at least, and then we can go back to our very nice room, okay, Angel?” Dean smiled softly.

“Okay, Dean,” Cas said, willing to play along.

They ordered; the food came; Dean ate; and Cas pretended to, every now and then taking an actual bite of something to make the pretense easier. The dinner plates were cleared, and they both ordered the crème brulee, with coffee for each of them, for dessert. And then as they were waiting for dessert, Dean excused himself for a moment. He followed the waiter, and got his attention, and asked him to stall on bringing the dessert out for about five minutes; he explained why, and the waiter grinned and agreed.

Dean returned to the table. He pulled out his written statement under the table, and glanced through it. He looked up at Cas, and saw that Cas was smiling fondly at him.

Dean flushed a little. “During our last session, Mia made a suggestion that I found helpful.”

“Oh? Tell me about it, Dean.”

“She pointed out that the reason I had the panic attack wasn’t because I had sniped at you; I had caught myself, and apologized, and we were fine right after that. The reason I had the panic attack is because I have a huge fear of abandonment, Cas. Everyone I’ve ever known has left me. Everyone. Even Sam left, first to go to Stanford, and then to trap Lucifer. Even you left, for a while – and I don’t blame you, Cas, you needed to go, I understand it. But all my life, everyone has left, so I’ve always just been impulsive, didn’t bother to make a plan and stick to it, just kinda winged it, and figured it didn’t matter. You don’t make plans when you know the people you’d be making plans with won’t be there to see the plans through. But I want what you and I have to last. I want to make plans with you, and see them through, Cas. So, Mia suggested that I write down what I want to say, both as part of my therapy, and because that way, I’ve made a plan.

“I have something I want – no, need – to say to you, Cas. So I wrote it down. I made a plan, and I want to stick to it. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to say it all out loud, so if I suddenly thrust the piece of paper at you, do me a favor and just read it, okay?” Dean swallowed hard.

Cas took Dean’s hand and squeezed gently, smiling encouragingly. “Say as much as you can, Dean. If you need me to, I promise to read the rest.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Here goes.

“Dear Cas,

“I am in love with you, and I know that you will always be _it_ , for me, because no one else could _possibly_ understand me better or know more of me, than _you_. You’ve seen my soul. And the miracle is, you love me _anyway_. You know what I did in Hell. You know what I did as a demon, bearing the Mark.” Dean’s voice became rough, so he took a gulp of water.

“You know my every evil deed, my every twisted thought, my every horrible impulse. And, despite it all, you _love_ me. You insist that I’m enough, that I’m good, that I deserve good things, that my soul shines, that I make you happy. I can’t pretend to understand how it is that you can possibly feel that way, but I am _so_ glad that you do.” Dean was trembling.

“I don’t want to hurt you, not ever. I don’t want to shut you out any more. I’m done with blaming you, and pushing at you, and sniping at you. I just want to love you, and be with you. And I know that you’ve said that you love me, that you’re in love with me, and that you’ll never leave me. That if I went away, you’d come after me. So, I’m hoping that that means you’ll go along with what I’m going to say next.” Dean moved out of his chair, stood next to Cas, then went down on one knee next to him. He pulled out the ring box, and opened it, showing the rings to Cas.

“Castiel, you’ve been my best friend for more than a quarter of my life. I’d like you to be my husband for the rest of it. _Will you please marry me?”_ Dean looked up at Cas, smiling tremulously with tears in his eyes.

Cas reached out and stroked Dean’s hair gently. “ _Yes_ , Dean. Of course I will.”

The rest of the restaurant’s patrons and its staff (alerted by the waiter) applauded. Dean blushed, but remembered to take the rings out of the box. He showed Cas the engraving in each ring. He slid Cas’ ring on to his left ring finger, and handed the other ring to Cas, so he could return the favor. And then he pulled Cas into a tight hug, and whispered, “Thank you, Angel.”

***

<https://pin.it/sH2LcwW>

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grr. I can't get the actual picture to post in the story, but I put a link to the art where I have it pinned on a friend's Pinterest account. If someone can tell me how to get posting art to actually work, I'd appreciate it. Thanks!
> 
> Please comment!


	134. This Fresh Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe seeks out Lucifer. Kathy asks Chuck a question.

Gabriel waited until Sam was asleep. Then, as Cas had previously done – and reversed – Gabe shut down Sam’s REM cycle, so Sam wouldn’t accidentally dream of what he was about to do. He then entered Sam’s memory palace, looking for Lucifer or Michael. Much as he loved and trusted Castiel, Gabe wasn’t going to trust that it was safe for Sam to continue to house Lucifer and Michael in his brain until he’d personally spoken with them. He remembered his older brothers, and while he loved them (and always would), he didn’t trust them.

He found the area with the Cage easily. While Amara had changed the Cage in Hell to a simple holding cell, she hadn’t been aware of the existence of the one in Sam’s mind until Cas had told her about it, and she hadn’t changed this one; it was just as much a torture device as the original had been from the start, except for the broken lock. It couldn’t hold someone, but it could still do a number on their mind if someone entered it. He had no plans to do so.

“Heya, Gabe.” Gabe turned, and Lucifer was behind him.

“Lucifer. Why do you still look like Nick?” he asked.

Lucifer shrugged. “I got used to seeing this face in the mirror. Really, Nick was the vessel I had the longest, and I think if Sam ran into me wearing his own face in his dreams some night, he’d freak out a lot more than he ever did seeing me as Nick.”

“So you look like Nick to spare Sam’s feelings?”

“Essentially. I owe Sam a lot, Gabe. I’d do a lot more than just wear this face to make Sam Winchester happy.”

“Yeah, well, making Sam Winchester happy is my job, now. That’s why I’m here,” Gabriel told his older brother.

“Oh, reeeally! You and Sammy? Congratulations, Gabe! I think that’s great,” Lucifer said, actually sounding sincere. “So, how is he? I’ve actually been trying to stay out of his dreams lately.”

“He’s good. How are you, Lucy?”

“I’m _dead_.” Lucifer gave a wry smile.

“Yeah, lot of that going around.” Gabriel smirked. “Sam said you told him that I would know how to get you out of his head. And yeah, I _do_ , but it would take just about all of my grace, and that’s with the kid backing me up. And I wouldn’t be able to bring you back to life, only to send you on to the choice Amara gave you – the Cage, or the Empty. Now, Amara told Cas that she’s changed the Cage in Hell, and it’s now just a holding cell, not a torture device. But there might be a third option.”

“Castiel asked me what I wanted, gave me options, said I could do as I preferred. He said he wouldn’t send me back to the Cage, that I had suffered enough.”

“And I agree with that sentiment. I’m just saying, I don’t have the juice, on my own _or_ with Jack, to make it happen. Amara, however, _might_. But she’s declared herself neutral, and bringing you and/or Michael back, as Archangels, with your powers intact, would tip the balance of power in our favor, assuming you’re with us against Dad, as Cas reported?”

“Yeah, I am,” Lucifer confirmed. “So is Mikey.”

“Okay. Well, we thought we’d ask her, anyway, to bring the two of you, not just out of Sam’s head, but back – _really_ back. Not so the two of you could jumpstart the Apocalypse again, but so you can help us against Dad. Amara told Cas that she had the power to hold you back from The Empty, to keep you in reserve, should you be needed, and that the power of an Archangel, no matter how corrupted, was to be respected, not wasted. We’re trying to set up a meeting with Amara for this weekend, to discuss it. But it won’t _happen_ this weekend, because Sam won’t be anywhere near that meeting. So, you may be here a while yet. Just thought you should know.”

“Okay, thanks, Gabe. I appreciate the update. Really. I’ve missed you, little brother.”

Gabriel peered at Lucifer. “It… it _is_. It’s really _you_. _You_ , you. The you from _before_.”

“Yeah, Gabe. It’s me. The Mark’s gone. I’m no longer corrupted. _Bitter_ , yes; angry and pissed off at Dad, you bet. But corrupted? No. It’s just me.”

Gabriel lunged and pulled Lucifer into a tight hug, which, after a second, Lucifer returned. “Oh, I missed you, Lucy. I missed you so much.”

“Yeah? I missed you, too, Gabe. Mikey’s around here, somewhere, too. He and I are actually getting along.”

“So Cas said. I just… needed to see for myself, Luce.”

“How’s Jack?” Lucifer asked, quietly.

“He’s good, Lucy. Really good. Kid has so much energy, he practically bounces. Cas and Dean and Sam have done a really good job with him, Lucifer. A _really_ good job. You’ll be proud.”

“I already am. I screwed that up, Gabe. I need to fix it.”

“The Mark screwed it up. The kid knows that.”

“The Mark screwed everything up, Gabe. Hell, the Mark even screwed up Hell.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Dad first cast me down, Hell was just holding cells. A place to put those souls who were evil, and would corrupt Heaven. It wasn’t about punishment or retribution. That was a myth, one Dad started. The Mark twisted me, Gabe. Dad knew I wanted to create, like he did. So, when Dad gave me Lilith and told me to try to reverse-engineer humans from her, I tried. I stripped her down to her psyche, and then built her up again, from the ground up. But when I was done, she wasn’t human any more, she was a demon. The Mark wouldn’t _let_ me put her back together correctly. It made me hunger for power, for the feeling that I was the one being worshiped as the Creator. So, I kept creating demons, each as corrupt as I.

“Hell became known as a place of punishment, because Dad put it out that being stripped down to become a demon was the punishment for a corrupt soul, but that wasn’t true. It was never meant to be that way. In reality, it was all about power, a competition between me and Dad, as to who could collect the most souls.

“Now, I can’t turn the demons into uncorrupted souls, but they could be sent to The Empty. Hell could be swept clean, remade into what it was originally – holding cells. It doesn’t have to be the ultimate torture chamber; that was all the Mark.”

“And you’d want to be in charge of this fresh Hell?” Gabriel asked.

“No. I’ve already proven that I can’t be trusted, Gabe. Even without the Mark, and free of its influence, I have a lot to atone for. No, I shouldn’t be in charge of anything.”

***

The microwave dinged. A bag of popcorn was pulled out, and a mug full of water went in. One minute later, the microwave dinged. One mug was pulled out, and another went in.

Kathy shook the popcorn into the large mixing bowl, and added chocolate chips. She dunked a tea bag in the mug, and added a spoonful of honey. The microwave dinged again. She took the second mug out, and dunked another tea bag into it. She handed the first mug to Chuck, and added a spoonful of honey to her own mug. He carried the popcorn and she followed him into the living room.

They each sat on the couch, one on either end, the popcorn in between them. Kathy hit the button on the remote to start the movie. Then she suddenly stopped it again.

“Chuck? Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, Kathy. Ask me anything.”

“Can you read my mind? Do you just know what I’m thinking?”

“You mean do I have the ability? Yes. Do I use it? No. I don’t like to invade privacy like that. Besides, I found that I made just as many mistakes with people when I knew what they were thinking as when I didn’t. Sometimes my mistakes were worse. I thought I knew what they wanted, thought I could give it to them without consequences. But it doesn’t work that way. Like the making my own money thing. There’s always a consequence. So, yeah, technically, I could read your mind, but no, I won’t. Okay?”

“Okay. So, then, you’d have no reason to suspect that I was going to do…this.” Kathy moved the popcorn to the coffee table, and slid over next to Chuck, then leaned in and kissed his cheek gently. “Is… is that okay?”

Chuck smiled. “More than okay.” He turned toward her. “Are you sure you want… this? Me?”

Kathy smiled, and took his hand in hers. She laid her head on his shoulder, and clicked the remote to start the movie again. “Shh. Watch the movie, Chuck.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lucy. *sigh*
> 
> I told you Kathy would be good for Chuck. ;)
> 
> Please comment! Comments are life (especially now - see below)!
> 
> Update on my foot:   
> I did, in fact, rupture my Achilles Tendon. Ow. I have no idea how I did it, either. So, I can only be up and about, and at my computer, in short bursts; the rest of the time, I'm in bed with my foot propped up on pillows (which is not as comfortable as it might sound, given that my leg hurts from the mid-foot to the mid-calf). :( 
> 
> Thus, the updates will, in fact, be slower. Sorry. Can't be helped.
> 
> I *am* trying to keep up with responding to comments, as that doesn't take very long, and can be done in short bursts. Thanks for all the well-wishes! :)


	135. Feelings... (redux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe feels guilty. Dean feels dumb. Amy feels like a freak.

Gabe also spoke with Michael, who was almost fully recovered from his time in the Cage, and completely lucid. Michael confirmed to Gabriel what he’d previously told Castiel – that he was on their side in the fight against their Father, and had no plans of restarting the Apocalypse. And then he had apologized to Gabe for having made him so uncomfortable that he’d felt he needed to run away from the family to hide for millennia. They’d both been sniffling a bit by the end of the conversation.

Gabe left Sam’s head feeling a lot better about things. He restarted Sam’s REM cycle, as both Lucifer and Michael had assured him they were staying out of Sam’s dreams, and that Sam was safe from them. Gabe settled down next to Sam on the bed and rolled on his hip to watch Sam sleep. Just because Lucifer and Michael weren’t screwing with Sam didn’t mean Sam would never have a nightmare again; Gabe knew there were legitimate scars left on Sam’s soul from his time in the Cage. Gabe also knew those scars, and many others, were largely _his_ fault, and he didn’t want Sam to suffer any more than he could prevent.

_Oh, my Samshine, so much suffering, and so much of it my fault. I failed you. I’m so sorry._

Sam stirred in his sleep, and reached a hand out behind him; Gabriel realized Sam was looking for him. Gabe took the hand in his, and gathered Sam in to snuggle. Sam relaxed and went back under into easy sleep again.

_If only it was always so easy, my love._

Gabe cuddled Sam close and closed his eyes to rest.

***

Cas held out his hand and admired his ring again, smiling. He was sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed in their room at the Inn while he waited for Dean, who had stopped downstairs to ask the Inn’s owner a question.

Dean opened the door to the room, and stood in the doorway a moment, taking a moment to admire his fiancé. The new suit fit Cas so much better than Jimmy’s ever had, and the color was better.

_Jimmy must have been totally indifferent to fashion. I should’ve taken Cas shopping years ago._

“Heya, Cas.” Dean leaned against the door frame and smiled sweetly.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiled up at him.

“I don’t know if I remembered to tell you earlier, Angel, but you look totally hot in that new suit.”

“You look pretty hot yourself, Winchester.” Cas grinned.

Dean crossed over to Cas and sat beside him. “You’re going to be a Winchester, too, y’know.”

Cas’ breath hitched. “I hadn’t thought.”

“Well, yeah. I’d take _your_ last name, but you don’t really have one; unless you count _Novak_ , but that’s Jimmy’s name, not _yours_ , although I know you've used it from time to time. So, I figured you’d become ‘Castiel Winchester.’ Unless you don’t want to.” Dean’s eyes dropped to the floor.

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand. “I want to! I do!”

Dean looked at Cas, and saw the happy, excited look in his angel’s eyes. “ _Shit_. I should’ve had you just take the name years ago. Would’ve, if I’d realized it’d make you this happy. You’ve been family forever anyway, should’ve just made you a fake ID with it. I’m so dumb. Cas, I’m so sorry. I treated you so badly for so long. I swear, I’m going to spend the rest of forever making it up to you.”

“Hey, you’re not dumb. I never told you what I wanted, how I felt, either. You’re not a mind reader, Dean. It wasn’t your fault. And it doesn’t matter now, okay?” Cas squeezed Dean’s hand gently, and leaned in to rest his head on Dean’s shoulder. He sighed contentedly, and looked again at his ring.

“You like the ring, Cas?” Dean asked.

“It makes me very happy, Dean.”

“Me too, Angel.” Dean pressed a kiss against the top of Cas’ head gently. “Bedtime?”

“Yes, it’s been a long day.”

“One new thing? Or too tired?” Dean smiled.

Cas looked around at the room, the bed, and his fiancé. He hummed a little, happily. “I’m tired, but I’m not _that_ tired, Dean.”

“Start as usual? Get ready and meet back here in pajama pants?”

Cas nodded. “You can have the bathroom first, Dean. I’m just going to sit here and stare at my ring for a while.”

“You do that, baby.” Dean grinned, then headed for the bathroom.

***

Amy shifted restlessly, the constant ache between her shoulders throbbing. She whimpered in her sleep, shifting again, trying to find a comfortable position, settling face down, head turned to the side. Her mouth slack, eyes twitching behind the closed lids, dreaming.

***

_She was back in stasis; Julie was young, very young, and Amy was only just figuring out how to stay awake despite the symbiont growing out of her back. She couldn’t make a sound, her eyes could only open a crack, and if the lighting in the room was dim, she couldn’t see anything at all. She was hungry, starving, ravenous, all the time. She missed her parents and her sister like a perpetual ache – where were they? Where was she? Why couldn’t she wake fully? Who was Emily, who kept telling Julie to ignore her?_

_Julie was in the bathtub. Emily left the room to get something – a towel? – and Julie decided to get out of the tub by herself, instead of waiting. And in the long mirror on the back of the bathroom door, Julie saw her own reflection – and that of Amy, seemingly growing out of Julie’s back (in fact, Julie had grown out of Amy’s back). Julie started screaming._

***

Amy sat bolt upright in bed, her face wet with tears, the echo of Julie’s long-ago screams still ringing in her ears, her own sobs sounding harsh in the dark. And then suddenly Jody was there, turning on the light, and pulling her into a hug.

“Another dream?” Jody asked, concern plain.

Amy nodded.

“The same, or different?”

“S-same. Al..always the s-same.” Amy hiccoughed through the sobs.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“What’s to t-talk about? I-I’m a f-freak.”

“Oh, sweetie, no. You had a very bad experience that lasted a very long time, but you are not a freak.”

“W-what w-would you c-call it, then? A thirty-four-year-old in a f-four-year-old’s body, who f-for thirty years had _another **person**_ _g-growing out of her b-back?_ S-sorry, Jody, but that’s k-kinda the _d-definition_ of f-freak. Look, Jody, I know, I’ve g-gotta just d-deal with it, it’s reality and c-can’t be changed; but d-don’t tell me it isn’t true, okay?

Jody bit her lip, but then nodded. “Okay. Then what can I do to help?”

Amy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting herself calm down a bit, before answering. “Honestly, Jody, I don’t know. Maybe nothing can be done. Maybe I just have to _deal_. But just the fact that you _want_ to help is more than anyone else I’ve ever known, okay? I appreciate it.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for, kiddo. Now…how about… I fluff your pillow? Tuck you in? Get you a glass of water? Read you a story? Leave you be so you can get some sleep? What would you like?”

Amy chuckled weakly. “I think just trying to get some more sleep would be good. Sorry I keep waking you up, Jody.”

“Not a problem. You think Claire and Alex didn’t have their fair share of nightmares over the years? Pfft.” Jody smiled.

Amy let Jody help her slide back down under the covers. As Jody was about to hit the light switch, Amy said, “Thank you, Jody.”

“For what, honey?”

“For seeing _me_.”

“Absolutely no problem.” Jody smiled, and switched off the light.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *singing* feeeeeelings....whoa whoa whoa feeeeeelings.... ;)


	136. Engagement Counts as One New Thing, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas celebrate their engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is *decidedly* NOT SAFE FOR WORK. Sorry (not sorry!).

Dean was wearing his pj pants now, taking his turn at sitting on the edge of the bed, admiring his ring, waiting for Cas to come out of the bathroom and join him.

_I love these rings. I love my angel. We’re engaged! I am so fucking happy, I could burst._

The bathroom door opened, and Cas stepped out, glancing around for his overnight bag. He put something in it, then glanced up at Dean, and saw that Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, admiring his ring, much as Cas had been earlier, but with one distinct difference: Dean was glowing - literally. The light in his soul had gotten strong enough that it was no longer contained by Dean’s body, and Cas could see it like a halo all around Dean. It was constant and steady, and beautiful. Cas wondered if humans could see it, too.

“Dean?” he said, cautiously.

Dean glanced up, and smiled at him. “Yeah, babe?”

“Happy?” Cas smiled softly.

“Very, Angel.” Dean continued to look happily at his ring.

Cas realized Dean couldn’t see it, but he speculated that maybe the light could be caught on film. “Can you just sit just like that for one sec? I want to get a picture, you’re so beautiful.”

Dean blushed, as he always did upon being complimented, but Cas got a picture with his cell phone camera – and the light was dimmed, but visible. He brought the phone over to Dean.

“Take a look, my heart.”

Dean took the phone, but was looking at Cas, at first. Then he did as bid, and saw…. “Babe, your cell phone camera’s got a problem. I didn’t notice you using the flash, but it’s got the light all weirdly refracted.”

“No, Dean. I didn’t use the flash. That light is coming from _you_ , my heart. That’s the light that I keep telling you about. It’s just that now it’s strong enough to be visible, to me, and to a camera. Though not, apparently, to you.”

“Okay, that – that’s not _normal_ , Cas. You said everyone has a light, but it doesn’t show up _on film_!”

Cas sat next to Dean. “Don’t worry about having a strong light, Dean. It shows that you’re happy, healthy, making good choices. It’s a _good_ thing.”

“Cas….”

“Shhh, my heart. I didn’t show you this to worry you. I just wanted you to see at least part of what I see. It’s beautiful, Dean. Your soul is beautiful. _You_ are beautiful. And I love you.” Cas reached out and slid his hand against Dean’s cheek. Dean turned his head slightly and kissed Cas’ palm.

“I love you, too, Angel.” Dean let his shoulders relax.

“C’mon, love, lie down.”

Dean slid under the blankets as Cas walked around to his side of the bed and got in as well. They rolled to face one another, and smiled at each other.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas.”

Both of them stilled, just looking their fill. But after a few moments, Dean realized that just staring – or “eye-fucking,” as Sam had once rather graphically referred to it – just wasn’t _enough_ anymore. After eleven years, after finally admitting their feelings, after having made love, and now that they were engaged, staring longingly just didn’t cut it. Dean reached over and took Cas’ hand in his.

“Cas, I’ll never _not_ want to look at you, but _just_ looking at you isn’t enough, now.”

“No, I agree, Dean. I need to touch you. You need to touch me.”

Dean nodded. “I do. I really _really_ do.”

Cas rolled up onto his arms, and Dean caught on immediately, rolling back onto his back. They both shifted to the center of the bed, and now Cas was over Dean, looking down at him. Cas leaned down and kissed the tip of Dean’s nose.

“ _Boop_.” Cas grinned.

Dean laughed. And then Cas bent and kissed Dean in earnest. Dean stopped laughing and started kissing back, reaching up with one hand to card Cas’ hair softly, pulling him in closer. Cas went in the direction Dean’s hand urged, and lowered himself so that he was blanketing Dean, lying comfortably between Dean’s bowed legs. Cas broke the kiss to search Dean’s eyes for something; seemingly having found whatever it was, Cas nodded once.

“You are so beautiful, my heart. I love you so much, Dean.”

“I love you, too.”

Cas nosed into Dean’s neck, kissing gently. Dean brought his arms up around the angel’s sides, beneath his arms, holding him close, but allowing him free movement and all access, letting Cas do just as he liked to Dean. Cas ran his hands up and down Dean’s upper arms, kissing his way down from Dean’s neck, across his chest, squirming back just a little to raise his head enough to blow gently over Dean’s nipple before taking it in his lips and pulling very gently. Dean arched up helplessly, making a noise that was half-giggle, half-whimper, tickled and aroused at once. Cas let go, and Dean sank back into the mattress, but when Cas barely blew over Dean’s other nipple, Dean arched immediately up again, completely involuntarily. Cas grinned.

“Bit ticklish, my love?”

Dean moaned softly, but nodded, smiling. “Little bit, just there, yeah, Angel.”

“And if I do…this?” Cas used his teeth and bit down gently around the nipple, and Dean arched up, gasping.

“Oh, _Christ_ …. Cas… what even _was_ that?” Dean shuddered as Cas let go.

“I bit you, Dean. And you apparently _liked_ it.”

“Um… yeah. Um. I… I did.”

Cas moved back over to the other nipple, blew gently and bit down around it, as softly as before, and Dean instantly arched up again, moaning, yet laughing at the same time.

Cas huffed out a quiet laugh, as well. “Well, that’s ‘one new thing,’ then.”

Cas licked a swirl around the nipple, and Dean trembled, gasping. Cas sucked it into his mouth, and Dean nearly sat up, he arched up so hard. Cas gently but inexorably pushed him back down, never letting up on the sucking. Cas started flicking the tip with his tongue, and Dean tried to arch _again_ , muttering, his eyes closed tightly, his fingers twisting in the blanket.

Cas raised his head, and tilted it to the right. “Dean? Are you… are you _conjugating Latin verbs_ right now?”

“Trying to _focus_ on something. You doing… what you’re… doing… makes me feel… _slippery_ , like I’m about to skid off the edge of a cliff.” Dean was blushing hotly. He swallowed, hard. “I _love_ it, but… it’s almost too much, and yet, _not nearly enough_.”

Cas grinned, and bent his head again, still holding Dean down with one hand. With the other, he reached down and slipped his fingers inside the waistband of Dean’s pjs, then further, finding and stroking the length of Dean’s cock. Dean shuddered helplessly, his fingers digging in to the muscles of Cas’ back reflexively.

Cas went back to the other nipple and repeated the hard-suck-and-lick-the-tip maneuver, and Dean arched involuntarily, despite being held down. Cas grinned again.

“Do you need help staying put, my heart? We do have a four-poster bed, here; should I _tie you down_ to have my wicked way with you?” Cas laughed as he said it, but there was something in his eyes that glittered dangerously. Dean saw it, and gulped.

“If you like… _Sir_ ,” Dean whispered.

Cas smiled, tremulously, and kissed Dean softly, content, in that moment, to simply hold Dean and be held by him. And then, he shifted off of Dean slowly, sat up, and from the edge of the bed, looked back into Dean’s eyes, and said, softly, “Take your pants off, Dean, and fold them neatly; then lay right back down where you are now, legs spread wide, arms up and spread wide across the pillows, as quick as you can, for me, my heart. Now.” Dean gulped again, then scrambled to obey. Cas stood and crossed over to his bag, bending to pull out four of the new ties they’d bought that day, plus the familiar old one, along with a small bottle of lubricant. By the time he’d straightened up, Dean was back on the bed, in position, eyes closed.

Cas walked back to the bed. He took one of the new ties and tied one end around the base of the poster, then the other around Dean’s wrist, leaving some slack, some give, and he knew that Dean would know he could remove it easily if he needed to, but it was secure enough to give the illusion of helplessness. He tied the next tie to the poster at the end of the bed, then to Dean’s ankle, again, not tightly at all. He repeated this on the other side of the bed, leaving Dean spread-eagled and open.

“Open your eyes, Dean. Look at me, baby.”

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and his green eyes met Cas’ blue eyes with wonder and awe. “I love you, Cas.”

“I know.” Cas grinned.

“Did you just… _Han Solo_ me? While I’m tied to a _bed_?” Dean laughed. Cas chortled.

“Just checking to be sure it was really you, my heart, and that you were still with me?”

“Always. I’m _so_ with you, Cas.”

Cas nodded. “Test the ties. You know they’re not so tight that you couldn’t get out if you needed to, but you need to feel that they’ll hold you securely, too. So, test them for me, love. Squirm, pull, try to get free without actually undoing them.”

Dean nodded back, and did as instructed. “All good.”

“Okay. You get a choice now, my heart. I have one tie left.” Cas held up his old familiar blue tie, the tie that had once belonged to Jimmy Novak, the tie Dean loved to hate. “Where does it go? Do I blindfold you with it? Or do I gag you with it? Choose, Dean.”

Dean considered. “Blindfold, please.”

Cas nodded, and sat on the edge of the bed. He set the bottle of lubricant down on the bed, next to Dean’s hip. He turned toward Dean, and leaned down to kiss him gently, then told him to “lift up your head, baby, and close your eyes now,” and when Dean obeyed, he wrapped the tie around from the back, had it pass over Dean’s closed eyes twice, then around the back again, and to the front, where he tied it off over the bridge of Dean’s nose.

“Try to open your eyes. Can you see anything, Dean?” he asked.

Dean tried to open his eyes, and could manage to crack them open, but even then all he could see was a faint blue-tinted line of light coming through the silk fabric at the very bottom of his line of sight. He told Cas that.

“Honest. That’s very good, Dean.” Cas tugged the silk down just a little, and Dean was plunged into complete darkness, unable even to open his eyes that little crack, now, the blindfold doing its job quite well.

“Still all right, still with me, Dean?”

“I’m _excellent_ … Sir.” Dean smiled softly. Cas leaned in and kissed him sweetly again. Then Dean felt the bed rising, then dipping again, and Cas shifting his weight around slightly, until Cas was kneeling between Dean’s thighs, his hands planted one on either side of Dean’s ribs… hovering over Dean.

Dean squirmed, waiting. Cas didn’t move.

Dean whimpered, waiting. Cas didn’t move.

“Cas?” Dean whispered.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Um… may I ask what you’re waiting for… Sir?”

“Just admiring my fiancé, my heart. I’m just wondering how I ever got this _lucky_. To have the love and trust of someone so beautiful, to have your confidence in me, it’s a _gift_ , Dean. You’re a treasure.

“If I do anything – _anything at all_ – that makes you uncomfortable, all you have to do is say ‘ _stop_.’ And I will stop _immediately_ , no matter what it is I’m doing. I mean that, Dean. Any time at all.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Cas bent his head and kissed Dean again, then nosed into his neck and kissed there, then laid down a fiery trail of kisses. Dean felt as if each of them was burned into his flesh, like Cas’ handprint on his shoulder, imprinted for all time, though in fact no marks were left. And then Cas reached his nipple, and bit down softly, tongue flicking, and Dean arched helplessly despite not being able to actually go anywhere, crying out quietly. Cas grinned, then sucked hard, and Dean moaned.

“I’m glad you chose a blindfold instead of a gag, Dean. I’d hate to miss any of these wonderful noises you’re making, my heart.” Cas moved over to repeat his actions on Dean’s other nipple, with largely the same results. Dean shuddered, trembling, as Cas started kissing his way further down Dean’s abdomen.

Cas scooted back a little further, and with the palms of his hands, spread Dean’s thighs wider, rolling them slightly outward from the hips. Cas leaned forward and licked a thin stripe up Dean’s already-hard-enough-to-hammer-nails cock, from tip to base, and blew softly over it. “So pretty, all red and hard and ready for me. Tell me what you want, Dean. If you can say it, you can have it, my heart.”

“Please, sir. Kiss me.”

“Kiss you where, Dean?”

“Kiss my cock, sir, please?”

“Such lovely manners, Dean.” Cas leaned forward and kissed the tip gently. Dean trembled. “What else would you like, Dean?”

Dean smiled; he couldn’t see Cas, but he knew his fiancé could see him smiling down at him. “Please take my cock in your mouth, sir, and suck on it, please?”

“Of course, darling.” Cas had indeed seen Dean’s smile, and was warmed by it. He opened his mouth and slid it carefully over the tip of Dean’s cock, then closed his lips gently. Dean shivered.

Cas sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, and Dean gasped softly, forcing himself to keep his hips still, though Cas hadn’t said he couldn’t move. Cas’ tongue swirled around the tip, and his lips slid upward, taking more of Dean into his mouth. Cas’ hands held Dean’s thighs still as Dean quivered, moaning softly.

Cas licked and sucked his way up and then back down to the tip. He opened his mouth, and let Dean’s cock spring free, hard and bobbing in the air, wet with saliva. Dean shivered again.

“What else would you like, my heart?”

“Would you… f-finger me, please, sir?” Dean asked on a moan.

“Yes, Dean.” Cas knelt and leaned forward on one hand, pressing two fingers against Dean’s lips. “Open up, Dean. Suck on these, and get them wet for me, darling.” Dean obeyed immediately, sucking and licking on Cas’ fingers.

Cas pulled them out, and leaned back again, pushing them against Dean’s hole. “Now, open for me _here_ , Dean. Let me in, my heart.” Dean gasped quietly as the fingers slid in slowly and began to scissor inside of him, stretching him, opening him.

Cas continued to move his fingers slowly inside Dean, as he asked, “What else would you like, Dean? If you can say it, you can have it.”

“Would you… make love to me, Cas? Please, sir?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas leaned forward and removed the blindfold. Dean blinked, then smiled up at him. Cas bent his head and kissed Dean gently, then leaned back again. “Do your ankle ties have enough slack for you to bend your knees and put your feet flat on the bed, love?”

Dean tried, but no, not quite that much room was available to him. Cas shrugged and untied the ankle ties. “Maybe later. Okay, so, bend your knees, feet flat on the bed, keeping your legs spread as wide as before, please, Dean.” Dean obeyed, his thighs quivering unsteadily from both nerves and emotion. Cas noted it, and checked in again. “Still all right, my heart?”

“Wonderful, sir.” Dean smiled sweetly. Cas nodded and smiled back. He opened the lube and dripped some onto his fingers, sliding them back into Dean, gently, but obdurately opening him up. Then he slicked the remaining lube over himself.

Cas leaned forward slightly and lined up, pressing forward gently. “Tip your hips up for me just a bit, Dean; let me in.”

Dean obeyed, rising up from the bed slightly, pushing down with his feet. Cas scooted forward a little, his knees just beneath Dean’s upper thighs, his hands on the tops of the thighs, keeping them spread wide, as he pushed forward and started moving into Dean. Dean gasped as the muscle, already opened by Cas’ fingers, spread further now to accommodate his cock. Cas continued to push in, slowly, carefully, but without stopping. Dean whimpered softly at the slightly burning stretch of his inner muscles, unable to decide if it was painful, pleasurable, or somehow a mix of each. Cas didn’t stop until he was all the way in, deep; then he paused, leaned forward, and kissed Dean softly. “Still all right, love?”

Dean nodded. “I want you, Cas. So much. Love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too. Can I start to move now, or do you need a minute more to adjust?”

“I’m good, sir. Please, please move.”

Cas nodded, and began to slide back out, but only part way, before thrusting hard to put himself back in completely again. Dean gasped at the hard forward movement that rocked his hips back a bit, and adjusted a little to indulge Cas’ use of forceful motion.

“Harder, Dean? Softer? Faster? Slower? Tell me what you want, darling.” Cas leaned forward on his arms to look directly in Dean’s eyes.

“Harder, sir, and faster, please.” Dean moaned softly as Cas nodded and slid out a little, thrusting hard and fast back in, deep. He began to quicken the pace, slamming into Dean, their eyes locked on each other. Dean began rocking his hips slightly; Cas hadn’t told him not to move, and he couldn’t stop himself, but as he moved to meet Cas’ thrusts, he took Cas further into himself than he might have otherwise, and he gasped again at the slightly painful propulsion of Cas’ cock so deep into him.

“This is what you want, Dean? My cock driving home into you, bruising you slightly, so you feel me inside you even afterward?”

“Yes, sir. _Yes_. Please. Want to feel you _always_. Love you. So much.”

“I love you, too, my heart.”

Cas held himself above Dean on one hand, continuing to slam into him, and with his other hand, took Dean’s cock and began to stroke it with long, twisty slides from base to tip. Dean cried out softly, his hips rising again involuntarily, again just as Cas’ hips moved forward to plunge into his depth, taking him even deeper still.

Dean whimpered.

“Tell me what you want, Dean. Do you want to come with me?”

“Yes, _Christ_ , yes, Cas, _sir_ , please, _please_ , I want to come with you, please, sir, _yes_.”

“Come with me, Dean. Come for me. I want to watch you, I want you to watch me. Come, Dean. Now!” They both groaned, neither shutting their eyes, each watching the other’s face, as they each climaxed, gasping for air.

Cas stayed slightly hard inside Dean, still occasionally spurting little drips into him, but reached up to untie Dean’s arms, rubbing his wrists gently. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and pulled him down to cuddle against his chest, skin-to-skin. They laid there a while, occasionally caressing. Cas eventually softened and slipped out of Dean, and used his powers to clean them both. Dean pulled the blanket up over them both, and they snuggled down into the mattress, and each other, to sleep.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, no, I don't intend for Dean and Cas to get into a heavy BDSM-type dynamic. They're just having some fun, here. They're entitled. They just got engaged. So, cut them (and me) some slack, about the lack of proper etiquette, okay?
> 
> So, since my foot is keeping me to once per day or every-other-day posting, I decided to give you a longer-than-usual chapter to make up for it - it's more than double the length that I usually make my chapters, but honestly, there really wasn't a good spot to break it up. 
> 
> Update on my foot: now they say they're not sure it's the Achilles Tendon. It could be, but it could also be 3 other things, and they want me to have further tests done, but they don't know when they can get them scheduled. They'd like an ultrasound, but the ultrasound techs have never done a 'sound of an AT before, apparently, so they're thinking maybe MRI, but they're not sure the insurance will cover it. *sigh* Basically, I'm getting the run-around, with no official diagnosis and no prognosis on when I'll actually feel BETTER in sight. I am very grumbly. Not your fault. Sorry in advance if I say something grumbly to someone in comment responses. I'm trying my best to keep up good humor, but my foot frickin' HURTS. Grr. 
> 
> Carry on.
> 
> Please comment. :)


	137. Dean's Demon Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a bad dream, then writes in his journal.

_Dean was walking down a long hallway of closed doors; he felt at once like it was familiar, and like he was utterly lost. He didn’t bother trying the doors to see if they would open, although he wasn’t sure why; he just felt like there was somewhere else he needed to be. The hallway came to an intersection, and he started to turn left. But then he stopped. This was familiar. He felt like he’d taken this left turn many, many times. Left seemed comfortable, somehow. But why didn’t he turn right? Or go straight? What would happen if he did?_

_He turned, and went the other way, instead; realizing that he was suddenly walking more cautiously, he huffed out a laugh. Nothing was going to happen, here; he was fine, this excessive caution was silly. Nevertheless, he chose his footing carefully, where before he’d been merely walking along._

_There. A door was open. He walked carefully up to it, but somehow couldn’t see beyond the doorway. He shrugged, and stepped carefully through the door… into Hell._

_He tried to turn back, but two clouds of black smoke – vessel-less demons – took his arms and dragged him backwards on his heels. He tried to call out for help, but one of the clouds wound around his head to silence and blind him. He felt the smoke strapping him to the rack, locking him into place and gagging him tightly, and he whimpered._

_The smoke cleared, and Alastair appeared in front of Dean, carrying his favorite scalpel. Dean, knowing it was utterly futile, desperately tried to shrink back, to struggle, to squirm, but couldn’t effect even the tiniest of movements._

_“Helllllo, Dean. So nice of you to come my way. You know, I don’t get to see you very often, not for a long time now. I blame that… what did you call him? **Pesky angel?** Indeed. So irritating. See, your brother killed me – oh, yes, Dean, I am indeed dead – so now, I can only hurt you when you return to me in your dreams, walking your own memory palace. That’s right, Dean - **you came here freely** , of your own volition. Which means you want what I can do to you.”_

_Dean tried to shake his head in negation, but the straps held him firm. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to think that he had chosen this perversion, yet, it **had** been his decision to come **this way** , to go through **that door**._

_“You want the pain, Dean. You crave it. You **need** it. I put that need in you, and it has never diminished. Oh, you can resist it, for a while. And when you start to actively seek it out, Castiel tries to shepherd you away from it. And he succeeds, for a while. But you **always** end up back here, eventually. Of course, he soothes you, wipes away the memory of the ‘bad dream,’ sometimes even before you awaken. But you **always** come back, Dean.”_

_“Noooo.” Dean tried to verbalize, but realized that no sound had actually leaked out of the gag at all.  
_

_“Let us begin, shall we? What should I take from you first today, Dean? How about… your tongue? Yes, I think that would be an excellent place to start. Don’t want you calling out to your pesky little angel friend.” Alastair noticed the ring. “Ohhhh, make that your pesky little angel **fiancé**. Tsk tsk tsk. Dean, Dean, Dean. Don’t you remember? I already ruined you for relationships. Even though I’m dead, Dean, **you still belong to me**. In fact, before I take your clever little tongue, let’s hear you say it, Dean. Say, ‘I belong to you, Alastair,’ like the good little bitch I know you are. Go on, Dean. Say it.”_

_The strap holding Dean’s jaw in place loosened to allow him speech, and Dean screamed. “CASSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”_

_“Oh, bad boy. Bad bad bad. You just earned a punishment, Dean.”_

***

Dean sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. He looked around, and recognized the bed, the room, saw that Cas was asleep next to him, and he relaxed.

_Just another damn dream. I’m fine. Cas got me out, I’ve been free of Hell and Alastair for over a decade. It was just a dream. I’m okay._

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and ran his hand down over his face. He slipped out of bed, and glanced back at his angel. Cas was still sound asleep. Dean crossed the room to the bathroom; at the door, he glanced again at Cas. Then he stepped into the bathroom. He ran some water, splashed some on his face, washed his hands. He grabbed a small towel and dried his face and hands, then looked in the mirror over the sink.

“It was just a dream.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly.

“It was just a dream. Alastair is dead. I’m safe, I’m fine, Cas loves me, we’re engaged, and _I choose to be happy, dammit_.”

He quietly left the bathroom and crossed to the desk and turned on the small writing lamp. He glanced again over at Cas, but the angel was still sound asleep. He took out his journal and pen, uncapped the pen, and turned to a clean new page.

***

**_ Thursday morning, early _ **

_I finally took Cas shopping yesterday. I bribed a clerk to help him, since he needed literally everything and I knew it would take a lot of time and effort. Then, while he was busy trying things on, I went to the jewelers and got our engagement rings. I had been thinking of just plain bands, but I noticed this design and couldn’t resist it. It’s even part of something called ‘the Angelic Collection’ and the design is meant to be angel wings, to either side of a diamond chip that indicates the angel’s heart. Perfect for us, really. Our rings are identical, except for the inscriptions inside. My ring says, “Cas’ heart.” Cas’ ring says “Dean’s Angel.” They’re pretty, yet still entirely masculine._

_Got back to the store where I had left Cas, and it was a disaster. The clerk wasn’t helping Cas, just bringing him a bunch of unrelated things and then rushing off. Poor Cas couldn’t make a choice, and the place looked like a tornado had hit. Cas was so frustrated and mad, and I don’t blame him a bit. I got him laughing, though, and then we were fine; I helped him make some good choices, and we got out of there, came back to our room at the very nice B &B where we’re staying, and got cleaned up and changed for dinner. _

_We went to a steakhouse called the Scotch and Sirloin. They have a rather extensive collection of various whiskeys, scotch, and bourbons. I had coffee to drink, and Cas had iced tea, until dessert, when he switched to coffee, too. It wasn’t even a difficult choice. I don’t need to feel numb any more._

_The food was great. Cas doesn’t need to eat, of course (though he can; it just “tastes like molecules”), so he just pretended, moving food around on the plate and now and then taking an actual bite for appearances. Between the entrees and dessert, I proposed, and he said yes. The whole restaurant applauded us as we hugged. I totally didn’t cry. Okay, I had tears in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Happy tears don’t count anyway. Then we both had crème brulee for dessert, which was incredibly good, and since it’s almost entirely sugar, even Cas liked it._

_Then we came back to the room. I had to ask the clerk something, so Cas came up ahead of me, and when I came in, he was just sitting on the edge of the bed, grinning like an idiot, staring at his ring. I told him how good he looked in his new suit, and he said “_ _You look pretty hot yourself, Winchester.” I pointed out that he was going to be a Winchester, too, and he made this funny little sound, like his breath was somehow choking him, and he said, “I hadn’t thought.” So, then I said, “Well, yeah. I’d take your last name, but you don’t really have one; unless you count Novak, but that’s Jimmy’s name, not yours, although I know you've used it from time to time. So, I figured you’d become ‘Castiel Winchester.’ Unless you don’t want to.” And he grabbed my hand and said that he did want to, and he looked so happy, so excited, and I realized a last name was something I could have given him years ago, just by making him a fake ID. I felt horrible that I’d never grasped before how important something like that might be to him. I swear, I’m going to spend the rest of forever making it up to him._

_We got ready for bed, and Cas went in to use the bathroom first. When he came out, I guess I was mirroring him, grinning like an idiot at my own ring. So he told me to stay just as I was, because he wanted to take a picture of me. He said I was beautiful. And apparently, I was… glowing. He caught the light that he keeps talking about, the one in my soul, on film somehow, and showed it to me. It freaked me out a little – it’s not normal for people to fucking glow, okay? – but he said it was a good thing, meant that I was healthy and happy and making good choices. I’m not entirely sure I believe that’s all it is – Sam makes healthy choices, and I don’t see him leaking radiation._

_We decided to make love, and it was lovely, really – light and fun, Cas even ‘booped’ my nose. I got a little… ticklish, I guess is the right word, maybe, or overly responsive? Not sure. But Cas joked that maybe if I couldn’t hold still, he should tie me down. And I kinda went with it, and said, “if you like… Sir.” And just like that, Cas was in charge. We had a four-poster bed in our room, and he tied me down with four of his new ties – not really tight, and he and I both knew that I could get out of it if I really wanted to – and blindfolded me (my choice, rather than being gagged) with his old tie. He was gentle, and loving, but utterly in control, and it turned me on like flicking a damn light switch._

_He knows I have trouble with expressing feelings and needs verbally, so he made me ask for what I wanted; but I felt so safe with him that I only stuttered a little bit, and managed to ask for four things – to kiss me, to suck me hard, to make love to me, and to help me to come when he did. When I asked for him to make love to me, he took the blindfold off. I think we both feel like in order to make love, we both need to be able to see each other, to look into one another’s eyes. He also untied my feet so I could bend my knees better, though he was between my legs and holding them open with his body and his hands. I didn’t mind a bit._

_I loved what we did, every minute of it. But afterward, I dreamt of Alastair. I was in a hallway of closed doors, walking past them, until I reached an intersection. And then I started to turn left, but then I questioned that decision, and turned right, instead. And as I walked along – more cautiously now, though I told myself I was being silly – I reached a door that was open, but I couldn’t see inside. So, like an idiot, I stepped through the door, and into Hell. Two smoke demons caught me immediately, and bound me to the rack, shrouding me to keep me silent and blind until they had me strapped down and gagged. When the smoke cleared, Alastair was there._

_He said,_ _“Helllllo, Dean. So nice of you to come my way. You know, I don’t get to see you very often, not for a long time now. I blame that… what did you call him? Pesky angel? Indeed. So irritating. See, your brother killed me – oh, yes, Dean, I am indeed dead – so now, I can only hurt you when you return to me in your dreams, walking your own memory palace. That’s right, Dean - you came here freely, of your own volition. Which means you want what I can do to you.”_

_I tried to shake my head no, but the straps were in the way, so I closed my eyes. I couldn’t stand to think that I had chosen this perversion, yet, it had been my decision to come this way, to go through that door._

_Alastair continued, “You want the pain, Dean. You crave it. You need it. I put that need in you, and it has never diminished. Oh, you can resist it, for a while. And when you start to actively seek it out, Castiel tries to shepherd you away from it. And he succeeds, for a while. But you always end up back here, eventually. Of course, he soothes you, wipes away the memory of the ‘bad dream,’ sometimes even before you awaken. But you always come back, Dean. Let us begin, shall we? What should I take from you first today, Dean? How about… your tongue? Yes, I think that would be an excellent place to start. Don’t want you calling out to your pesky little angel friend.”_

_Then he noticed my ring, which I was wearing, even in my weird-ass dream, and he said, “Ohhhh, make that your pesky little angel fiancé. Tsk tsk tsk. Dean, Dean, Dean. Don’t you remember? I already ruined you for relationships. Even though I’m dead, Dean, you still belong to me. In fact, before I take your clever little tongue, let’s hear you say it, Dean. Say, ‘I belong to you, Alastair,’ like the good little bitch I know you are. Go on, Dean. Say it.”_

_Then the strap holding my jaw in place loosened to allow me to speak, but instead of saying what Alastair wanted me to say, I screamed, “CASSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”_

_Then Alastair said, “Oh, bad boy. Bad bad bad. You just earned a punishment, Dean.”_

_And then I woke up. And Cas was still sound asleep. I’m so used to him hearing my prayers, hearing Sam from within Sam’s nightmares, that it kind of baffled me that he was sleeping. I think, now that I’m actually thinking more clearly, that it was because there was no actual threat to me. It was just a dream. When Sam was having his nightmares of Lucifer and Michael torturing him, it was different – they’re actually in his head, and were actually trying to actively torture him at the time. In my case, Alastair is dead. He’s gone. He hasn’t taken up residence, he’s not a “memory with intent” or whatever the hell Lucifer and Michael are. He’s just a memory, and nothing more. A fragment of my subconscious. So while it certainly wasn’t pleasant, or a good dream, there was no real threat, and so my scream wasn’t “real” either, in the sense of pinging Cas’ threat radar._

_But I have to wonder, was the dream triggered by what we did in bed? Did my subconscious somehow relate Cas tying me down for fun, on the one hand, with Alastair strapping me to the rack for torture, on the other? If so, I want to find a way to move past that right quick, because I want to be able to do with Cas whatever the two of us decide we want to do, whether it’s just making love, or full-on bondage, without having to worry that freaking Alastair is going to show up in my dreams afterward._

_So, Mia, question for you – how do I exorcise an already dead demon from my psyche?_

***

Dean recapped the pen, and looked at the clock on his cell phone. It was almost dawn. Time to get a little snuggling in, before packing up and heading out to find a diner for a really good, greasy breakfast.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROGRESS!
> 
> Please let me know you're still out there! Comment, please!!!! :D


	138. Keeping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe tries to keep up with Sam. Chuck tries to keep up with Kathy. Amy and Claire talk about Amy trying to catch up to everyone else.

Thursday morning dawned cold, and once again, Sam and Gabe were up early to run. Gabe wasn’t entirely happy about the hour.

_Up at the ass-crack of dawn for you, Samsquatch. Only for you. This must be true love._

Sam headed for the 30-mile route through town, and Gabe manfully suppressed his groan. The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched.

_Okay, maybe I didn’t suppress that as much as I’d hoped._

“You with me, Baby?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. I’m with you. Run.” Gabe managed a quick smile.

Sam wasn’t buying it. He stopped and jogged in place.

“Gabe, you don’t have to run with me if you don’t want to. It’s fine.” He smiled sweetly at the Archangel.

“I do want to, Samshine. I’d just’ve liked to’ve had some caffeine first, is all. You start the coffeemaker, and you’re out the door without waiting. I’m tellin’ ya, it’s not natural.”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. “Okay, Gabe. Tell ya what. Make it with me to mile five, and breakfast at the diner by the highway is on me.”

Gabe perked up a little. “Isn’t that the place….”

“That sells rock candy by the pound? Yes, although rock candy does not constitute ‘breakfast,’ Gabe. But yes, eat something real, have some coffee and some orange juice, and we’ll buy you some rock candy to bring back. Okay?” Sam smiled indulgently.

“Just there and back? No marathon training today?” Gabe looked hopeful.

“Yeah, okay. We can cut it short today.”

“Woot! Okay, then. 'Lay on, MacDuff.'”

Sam grinned and started running. “Keep up, Baby.”

Gabe winced, and had to sprint for a moment to catch up. He cheated a little and used his wings.

_I will always keep up with you, Samshine. Always. But what you don’t know doesn’t have to hurt me._

He grinned, and sprinted past the taller man, turning to run backward in front of him.

“Maybe _you_ should keep up with _me_ , Sammykins.”

“Gabe, no using your wings.”

“Awwww, man.”

***

“Um. Okay. Yeah… Yeah, that works… I think so? Okay… Do I have to? Fine… All right… Yeah, thanks. Okay… Bye.” Chuck hung up the phone and looked over at Kathy. “That was my agent. We’re good to go on that end. The publisher bought the book. But….”

“But… what?” Kathy asked.

“They want a trilogy. But the last chapter has Sam and Dean dying.”

“So? You’ve killed them off before. Just bring them back. Again.”

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose.” Chuck rubbed his temples.

Kathy came over and gave him a hug. “Hey, this is _good_ news. The fake, ‘red herring’ timeline will get out to the fans, you’ll get some cash, and you’ll have something to offer Sam and Dean. This is what we wanted. Which means it’s time to call Cas and set up a meeting.”

“Oh. You want to do that so soon?”

“Well, to call him, yeah. Cas and I are friends, I’m not afraid of meeting with him. And it might take a few days to set up, I don’t know what he’s got on his plate, y’know.” Kathy smiled.

“The publisher also wants me to tour. And there are some fan conventions coming up that they want me to go to.”

“Okay, well, just another reason to get the meeting with Cas out of the way, right?”

“I hate touring. And… and I’m gonna… Shit. Kathy, I’m just gonna miss you.” Chuck looked miserable.

“Miss me?” Kathy looked baffled.

“Well, yeah. You take care of me, you actually kinda seem to like me, and you don’t take my shit. You’re not afraid of me, or at least, I _hope_ you’re not afraid of me. I hope you know you don't have to be afraid of me, Kathy; I'd never hurt you. You’re not afraid of calling me on my shit, which… which I kinda like. So, yeah, I’m gonna miss you, Kathy.”

“Okay, but I meant, how will you miss me, when I’ll be right there with you?” Kathy smiled.

“Wait… what?”

“If you’ll have me along, I’d like to come with you.”

“Really? You’d come on tour with me? What about your job?”

“The park’s closing for the season, anyway. I’d rather be with _you_ just about anywhere, than alone in a small cabin in a remote part of Wyoming for the winter. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Mind? I’d _love_ for you to come with me on tour. Um. I-I’m just… just wondering. What, um, what kind of… role you see yourself in?” Chuck’s voice squeaked a tiny bit.

Kathy looked a little surprised, then smiled. “Well, I kinda thought I’d just be your _girlfriend_ , Chuck. Is… is that okay?”

Chuck grinned.

***

Amy got up and got dressed, went downstairs and put a bagel in the toaster, poured herself a glass of juice, got the cream cheese out of the refrigerator, spread some on the toasted bagel, put the cream cheese away, and carried the juice and bagel over to the table, seating herself at the table to eat.

Claire walked in to make coffee. She got it started, then leaned against the counter, and looked over at Amy. “How’d you get a juice glass down from the cupboard?”

“There was one clean in the dish drainer.”

Claire nodded. She got a mug down, then thought and turned. “You want some coffee?”

“No; thank you, though. I haven’t really acquired the taste.”

“No time like the present.” Claire got down a second mug and doctored both cups of coffee the way she liked – extra light and sweet. “Here, try this.”

Amy tried a sip. “Oh, hey, that’s not bad.”

“I know, right? When you put enough cream and sugar in, anything tastes good.” Claire grinned. “Look, we all know the score, okay? We don’t want to make things uncomfortable for you. You look like a little kid, but you aren’t one, really. Except that there are huge gaps in your education. I was kinda the same way when I first came here. I mean, I looked my age and all, but I’d been on the streets, not in school, for a long time. I knew some things, but not others. There were weird gaps in my knowledge base.”

“How’d you get past it?”

“Jody home schooled me for a year. Sam helped, when he could. Dean, too, though he mostly trained me to use firearms and stuff. Even Cas helped once in a while. They all have their own special little areas of expertise. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ganged up on you, too.”

“Okay, I’ve heard about Sam and Dean, but who’s _Cas_?”

“Cas is… well, Cas is _Cas_. He’s an angel.”

“Metaphorically, like a really good guy?” Amy guessed.

“No, _literally_ , he’s one of the Heavenly Host, a warrior of god, has wings, angel. He’s Dean’s guardian angel, in fact.”

“How do you know an angel well enough for him to be your tutor?”

“Well, he’s kinda sorta my dad. I mean, _Cas_ isn’t, the angel part isn’t. Oy. I’m explaining this badly.

"Okay, so, when an angel comes to Earth, they have to take a vessel – a human has to consent to be possessed by them. They can’t be seen or understood in their true forms, except by a very few. My father was… well, he was an _idiot_ is what he was, but he was very spiritual, very devout, and he actually prayed to be used as a vessel. He got lucky – he got chosen by Cas. Even Cas was really hard on him, but Cas was nicer than just about any other angel would have been to their vessel. No matter what you hear, angels are not typically nice kind sweet individuals, okay? But _Cas_ … well, Cas is special.

“Dad got killed while Cas was in him – blown up by… an archangel. Dad’s soul went straight up to Heaven, but Cas was brought back by God in the same body. For a long time, I looked at Cas, and all I could see was ‘not-Dad’ and I gave him so much shit. But Cas has always been unfailingly kind and sweet and gentle to me. He saved my life a couple of times. So, now, it’s kinda like he _is_ my dad.

“But like I said, he’s Dean’s guardian angel, and that’s a big job, so Cas isn’t around here much anymore. I see him a few times a year, usually. Dean and Cas will be here this weekend, I guess they have some big news to tell me or something; so you’ll get to meet them both.”

“But not Sam?” Amy asked.

“No, I gather Sam isn’t coming up this time around. I dunno why. But you’ll meet him eventually. We usually head down their way a couple of times each summer. And Sam and Dean just inherited property up here, so they’ll be around more, here, too. So I’m betting that pretty much everyone is going to be called in on filling your knowledge gaps.”

“I’m not sure I want that. I’m already mentally ahead of my body. If everyone goes filling in my knowledge gaps, I’ll get further and further ahead mentally, but continue to lag behind physically.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Jody is planning to ask Cas if there isn’t anything that can be done about that, too. I mean, there may not be, don’t get your hopes up. But if anyone can figure it out, it’s probably Cas.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabe's right; Sam's coffee habits are not natural. ;)
> 
> I told y'all Kathy would be good for Chuck. So far, Chuck seems to be pretty good for Kathy, too. Did anyone come up with a ship name for them, yet? ;)
> 
> Poor Amy. But at least she's been properly introduced to coffee, now. That's something. ;)
> 
> Please comment, guys - I wanna know you're still with me! :D


	139. Inching Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas speaks with Kathy about a meeting date and time. Donna speaks with her attorney, then with Jody. Balthazar overhears a phone call between Shann and a local LEO, sticks his nose in, and gets roped into helping out.

Dean and Cas had loaded up the many bags and boxes from the shopping trip the day before, and stopped for breakfast on their way out of Wichita. They stopped again at the WalMart in Salinas to get sweatpants, sweatshirts, a lighter jacket, underwear, socks, some sneakers, and, since they were right there, ugly Christmas sweaters. They also got some groceries, then got back on the road. Shortly after pulling out of the WalMart parking lot, Cas’ cell phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered. “Yes, Kathy, it’s good to hear from you. Are you all right?... I-is _he_ right there?... Really?... Uh huh… Well, this weekend isn’t great, we’ve got a meeting… The following weekend should be do-able, sure… All right… Okay, thanks for calling. Bye.”

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

“That was my friend, Kathy. Chuck had asked her to be his spokesperson, remember? She was calling to set up a meeting date and time.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes. Apparently, he is being quite kind to her. She says he sincerely regrets having started this fight, and would like to end it amicably; he just isn’t sure how to do so.”

Dean scoffed. “Believe that when I see it.”

Cas nodded. “Indeed.”

“So, not this weekend, but next? That should work.”

“I didn’t give her a location yet.”

“I don’t know that it matters. Chuck has been in the Bunker before, a couple of times. He knows where it is. We might as well have her just come to us.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

***

Donna was working through a stack of reports when her office phone rang. “Sheriff Hanscum speaking.”

Her attorney’s voice. “Donna? Did you find the envelope?”

“Yes. It had postage, it went through the mail. The only thing I can think of is that Doug was somehow tipped off by the bank in South Dakota where Claire obtained the cashier’s check, but how anyone in Sioux Falls would know to call Doug about anything like that is just weird.”

“That is odd, but it gives us a starting point for investigation. I have an attorney friend in Sioux Falls who could look into it for us, if you like.”

“Or we could have my friend, Jody Mills, who happens to be Sheriff there, investigate.”

“Even better. Give her a call, ask her to look into it and give me her findings?”

“Will do. And thanks.” Donna hung up, then dialed Jody’s office number, knowing she’d mostly likely be at work by now.

“Sheriff Mills.”

“Jody, it’s Donna. My attorney agrees with you that it probably had to be someone at Claire’s bank. She wants to know if you’d be willing to investigate and give her your findings?”

“Donna, I’ve already gotten started. I talked to Claire about who she worked with to get the cashier’s checks made up, and who else knew about the money from her perspective before I left the house this morning. I’m heading over to the bank, with that list of names as a starting point, in just a minute, here. If it was someone at the bank here, we’ll figure it out. I’ll let your attorney know, just give me her name and number; and then I’ll call you, too.”

“You’re a life saver, Jodes.”

“Only if I actually find something.”

Donna gave Jody the attorney’s information, then they ended the call.

***

The phone marked “FBI” rang. Shann answered it. “Willis, FBI…. Yes, he’s one of our best agents, in fact…. Well, of course… Well, if he says he needs to examine the body, I’d suggest you let him do his job…. Yes, I realize murder is a state crime, but when there’s a string of crimes running across several states with the same M.O., we often coordinate investigations, as there are pieces of information that tend to get lost without a federal presence. It’s really to your benefit… Well, if you want to have that kind of jurisdictional pissing contest, I can have my boss call the governor, but is that really necessary?... Glad to hear it. Put my agent on the phone, would you?... Hey, Dylan, it’s Shann. Look, I got you their cooperation, for the moment, but who knows how long it’ll last, yeah? So, hurry it up, man. You need any help?... Okay. Well, call us back if you change your mind, okay?... Nah, Dean and Cas went to Wichita overnight, and Sam and Gabe are out running at the moment… Sure, I’ll tell’em. All right…. Talk to you later. Bye.”

“That sounded like a highly fraudulent phone call,” a man in a v-neck t-shirt with a sport coat over it said, in a British accent.

Shann was a bit startled, but had come to expect the unexpected, and he had been told that there would be a few extra persons around the Bunker for a few days, so he didn’t overreact. “Um, yeah, it kinda was. And you are?”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Balthazar, and you would be Shann Murray, correct?”

“Um, yeah. That’s me.”

“Yes, it would have to be, wouldn’t it? You’ve worked here less than two weeks and you’re comfortably making fraudulent phone call verifications of fake agent credentials for hunters you’ve never met, yet are on a first-name basis with already. Does anything about that sentence strike you as odd, Shann?”

“It’s a job, man.”

“Angel, actually, if you want to be technical, but since I’m technically dead, I don’t suppose it really matters.”

Gabe and Sam came in to the library in time to hear the last exchange. “Hey, Balth, don’t be so hard on my hired help, okay?” Sam chided.

“Sam, I’m only trying to point out to Mr. Murray that his employment may have some questionable moral choices at stake.”

“Yeah, I get that, Balthazar, thanks,” Shann said, wryly. “Sam, Dylan had the local LEO call about cooperation again. He might end up needing some help, though he says he has it covered for now.”

“Okay, thanks, Shann. Hey, Balthazar, since you’re so concerned about Shann’s moral health, and you’ll head back to the Empty when you die again, no matter what kind of sin you commit while on Earth, why don’t you handle the verification calls, so we poor humans don’t have to sully ourselves? It’ll keep you occupied, too.” Sam grinned, as did Gabe, as Balthazar sputtered, then threw up his hands.

“Hey, Balthazar, at least free baked goods are a perk of the job.” Shann grinned at Sam, and returned to his research work.

“Speaking of baked goods, I’m off to be the Muffin Man,” Gabe said.

“The Muffin Man?” asked Balthazar.

“Hey, I know the Muffin Man.” Sam claimed a quick kiss from Gabe on Gabe’s way to the kitchen.

“Doesn’t he live over on Drury Lane?” Shann put in. Sam laughed.

Balthazar looked mystified. “Gabriel lives on Drury Lane? I thought he lived here?”

Sam and Shann lost it, and Balthazar stomped out.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the time between updates. I'm fine, except for my stupid foot, but my stupid foot is the problem with the updates. We still have no firm diagnosis, no treatment plan, no tests scheduled, and it still hurts. Grr. Plus, the COVID situation makes getting treatment for anything that isn't life-threatening more of a pain than it's worth. Since I just finished chemo last July and am still immunocompromised, I'm not leaving the house - once in the last 10 days, to deposit a check at the ATM - so I'm going a little stir crazy. 
> 
> So, talk to me!! Comment!! Tell me what's up with you - how is your area dealing with the virus situation where you are? Are you okay? 
> 
> And by all means, tell me what you think of the story, if you must. ;)
> 
> EDIT: 3/18/20 3:40 PM - we just found out that my husband has been exposed, so he has to be quarantined away from me. I'm kinda losing it. :(
> 
> Love y'all! :D


	140. Haven't We Done Enough?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas return from Wichita. Their engagement is announced over lunch. The group disbands, some going to work, some going to watch movies; Dean journals.

Dean pulled Baby into her regular parking space in the garage. Dean and Cas each grabbed a few bags.

Cas went to find Jack to help bring in the rest. Dean dropped his load off at their bedroom, then continued on to the kitchen to make lunch. He knew that Gabe had just made muffins yesterday and that the group would happily subsist on coffee and day-old muffins for breakfast, but if he didn’t get lunch on the table soon, he was likely to have a full-scale mutiny on his hands. He quickly put together spaghetti, garlic bread, and a salad, and called the troops in to eat.

The engagement was announced to cheers, and the rings were displayed and admired. Cas and Dean also let everyone know about Kathy’s call and the meeting that Cas had set up with her. Lunch was a success; even Hannah and Balthazar unbent enough to have a slice of garlic bread each, and Dean and Shann each had three helpings of spaghetti.

After lunch, Jack volunteered to clear and wash dishes, and the rest left him to it.

Cas, Dean, Sam, Gabe, Hannah, and Balthazar went to the sound-proofed office down the hall from the library. Cas put his phone on speaker so the whole group could hear, though only he would be speaking, and called Amara to set up the meeting location, date, and time. It was arranged for Saturday at 2:00 p.m. central, at the house that Sam and Dean had inherited from Bobby. That done, the group disbanded.

Sam and Gabe went back to the library to get back to work on their research. Cas, Hannah, and Balthazar went to watch movies. Jack, having finished the dishes, joined them.

Dean went to the bedroom he shared with Cas, and smiled, seeing that, before lunch, Cas had already managed to put all of the new clothes away. Having Cas’ clothes hanging in the closet they now shared warmed Dean’s heart a little.

He seated himself at his desk and pulled out his journal notebook and pen. He turned to a new page, uncapped the pen, and stared at the blank whiteness of the paper for a moment, as usual a little intimidated by the clean slate, but then he started to write.

***

_Dear Dean,_

_You’re 15 years old and a more cocky, arrogant, tough guy never lived, right? From the outside, at least. That’s what everyone sees when they look at you. That’s what you want – **need** – everyone to see when they look at you. You can’t let anyone know how **badly** you ache to be just a kid, to lose the responsibility that you’ve handled for so long. _

_You’re a smart kid, but you never do the homework; what’s the point, when John’s just going to yank you right back out of whatever school he’s dumped you in for the moment just as soon as he gets back from wherever the hell he’s gone now, right? You won’t be there long enough to finish the essay the English teacher assigned. You don’t need to study for the math test you won’t be there to take. Besides, you’ve got **other** things to worry about – the money’s gone, and there’s no food left. You don’t mind going hungry, yourself; but Sammy’s got to eat. And that’s way more important than doing the stupid assignment for history class._

_There’s a convenience store right next to the motel where John left you and Sam this time. Along with the usual candy and junk food, this place has actual groceries. They cost too much, but you have no cash anyway, so it’s going to have to be the five-fingered discount. A loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter will keep the kid fed until John gets back, and you can probably get that out of the store under your coat without a problem, though the bread might get a little smushed._

_But the clerk sees, and calls the cops. They arrest you, and they call John. John’s so pissed that you got caught, he refuses to come for you. You end up at Sonny’s Home for Boys; you don’t know where Sammy is, and no one can or will tell you._

_At first, you retreat into yourself. No point in talking to anyone, you won’t be there long enough. But the time stretches, and John doesn’t show up. After a couple of weeks, Sonny tells you that John actually told the deputy to let you “rot in jail.” It looks like John’s not coming back, and if you just knew where Sammy was, knew Sammy was all right, it would be a relief not to have to worry about John anymore. In fact, Sam is fine, he’s at Bobby’s, but you don't know that; you have no clue where he is, and you’re scared out of your mind over the rugrat’s safety, which has been your first priority for years now._

_You start to acclimate, settle in. Sonny is decent. You get three square meals a day, fresh air, you can actually concentrate at school (except for still being distracted by worrying about where the hell Sammy is), you’re taking guitar lessons (and you’re actually pretty good), and hey, you’ve got a girl. Not just a conquest, someone to see how fast you can get them to drop their panties in the janitor’s closet, but a real **girlfriend**. Someone who cares about you, and you care about her in return. You join the wrestling team and help lead the team to victory a couple of times, even winning an award yourself. _

_This is what it feels like to be a normal teen, and you like it. And then Sonny invites you to stay **permanently**. He tells you he’ll fight for you. He’ll fight John for you. **For you**. Because he **believes** in you. _

_And then John shows up, just as you’re getting ready to take your girl to the dance – the first dance you’ve ever actually wanted to attend. Of course, John insists you go with him, right now. Sonny again tells you that he’ll fight for you – but you look out the window, down at the Impala, and you see Sam sitting in the backseat. You don’t know where he’s been the past two months, if he’s eaten, if he’s okay, and you know that if you don’t go now, John won’t be back, and you’ll **never** know. You know you **have** to leave, and though it breaks your heart to do it, you lie to Sonny for the first time, telling him you **want** to go._

_You **don’t** want to go. You desperately want to stay. But Sammy is **yours**. You’ve cared for him for 11 years now, you’ve been his parent as well as his brother, and you can’t face never seeing him again, never knowing whether or not he’s all right. You could give a rat’s ass about John, but Sam? You’d move heaven and earth for your brother, much less give up your only chance at a normal life._

_So you go. And you don’t look back as the Impala drives away from Sonny’s farm. And later, once Sammy’s safely sleeping, you talk back to John for the first time in years, telling him that he can’t be gone for that long, can’t leave you with inadequate funds and food, that if he wants you to keep Sam safe, he has to give you the means to do so. That it’s his fault you ended up in jail._

_That much is clear in my mind. Of all of that, I have just the one set of consistent memories. From there, however, it diverges into multiple memories, courtesy of Alastair._

_In one, John agrees with me, tells me I’m right, and going forward makes sure to leave enough cash or to at least check in every couple of days. Since I don’t believe that ever happened, I’m fairly sure that’s a false memory, but I don’t know why Alastair would have bothered with setting up a false memory **where John was the good guy**._

_In another, John laughs at me, says that it’s not his fault, I should have been a better thief, and then hauls off and backhands me, knocking me to the ground, pulls off his belt, and beats me with it. Knowing what I know now, I think this is unlikely to be a true memory._

_In another, John tells me that if I want more cash, there are many ways that I can make money, then takes me to a bar and pimps me out to a trucker who fucks my mouth for $50, but at least doesn’t hurt me, and doesn’t make me swallow. Given my other memories of John’s blatant homophobia, I have a hard time believing this memory, too._

_In another, John tells me that if I want more cash, there are many ways that I can make money, then takes me to a bar and teaches me how to hustle pool. Given that I know for a fact that John did teach me to hustle pool at some point, and that I turned around and taught Sam, I suspect this last one is the real memory. I may ask Mia to hypnotize me to see for sure._

_Dean, you were a good kid. You deserved to have a normal life. You deserved to be on the wrestling team, to get good grades, to have a girl to take to a dance. **You did nothing wrong**. John’s shit parenting choices are **not** on you. You did the best you could and you took on more than you ever should have been asked to do. And the proof that you did well is how good Sam turned out. Be proud of that, Dean. _

_I’m proud of us._

_Dean_

***

**_ Thursday afternoon _ **

_Cas and I are back at the Bunker, shopping trip to Wichita successfully concluded, safely engaged. Our engagement has been announced and our rings admired._

_On the way back, Kathy called to set up a meeting with Cas, where she’ll speak on behalf of Chuck (God); apparently, he wants to stop fighting. I’ll believe it when I see it. They’re meeting next weekend._

_In the meantime, we have an appointment to meet with Amara (God’s sister) this Saturday. We’re planning to ask if she’ll help in a couple of small, but important, ways. We’ll see what she says._

_It was good to get away with Cas, but it’s also good to be home again. We were just gone overnight, but it feels like ages since we last slept in our own bed._

_It sounds odd to say, but I don’t miss being out on the road. I’m ready for something new. I think that restoring the vintage cars that the Men of Letters had here, and the inventory that Bobby had on hand at the Yard, could be that. It’ll take work, but it’s work I know how to do. I think settling down with Cas, and splitting our time between here and Sioux Falls, could be really good for us. Sam can keep doing research, and keep track of the hunters’ network, without going out himself. And maybe once in a while, we can do a hunt still. But we’re getting up there, and maybe it’s just time to hang it up and be safe. How many times are we supposed to save the world, after all?_

_We averted the Apocalypse. We talked Cas down from being God. We got rid of the Leviathans. We killed Abaddon. We got Amara under control. We got rid of Apocalypse World’s Michael. **We’ve done enough**._

_Haven’t we?_

***

Dean closed the notebook, capped the pen, and went to watch movies with the gang.

***

Dean 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, art's posted! 
> 
> Please comment? On story/art, both? :)
> 
> Re: the coronavirus - my husband remains in self-quarantine, but is currently still symptom-free. I appear to be fine (except for my stupid foot, which still f'ing hurts, dammit!). We're hunkered down and doing okay, at the moment. I hope all is well with all of you. *distance hugs*


	141. Friday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabe run into someone while out running. Dean runs into someone in his dreams.

Friday morning’s sunrise was glorious. Warm, mild air, with an orange and yellow streaked blue sky, no clouds. Inside the Bunker’s kitchen, Sam was topping off a to-go cup with fresh coffee, doctored just as Gabe liked it. Gabe came into the kitchen; he was dressed for running, but the look on his face said he wasn’t ready to leave. Sam handed him the cup, wordlessly. Gabe took it and knocked half of it back just for the caffeine, having no expectation that it would actually taste right; then his eyes went wide.

“Sam… How…?”

“How many times have I watched you make yourself a mug of coffee, Gabe? It’s not that hard to remember how much sweetened creamer to add to it so it’ll be just how you like it.” Sam smiled sweetly. “Would you like another cup right away, baby?”

“Yes, please… Oh - oh, no. You’re gonna make me run thirty miles today, aren’t you?” Gabe’s face took on a look of dawning horror.

“Well, we did run only five miles yesterday; but no, I’m not going to make _you_ do anything. _You_ can stay here and get a jump on today’s research, or bake muffins, or just go back to bed for a half hour, if you want.”

“Wait. So, you’re not going running?” Gabe looked suspicious.

“Oh, no. _I’m_ going, and I’m doing thirty miles. But _you_ don’t have to come, is what I’m saying. You can stay here, baby, it’s fine.”

“No. If you’re running, _I’m_ running.”

“Gabe. _Why_ are you running? You _hate_ running. Sure, you can do it, but you and I both know you hate it. So, why torture yourself, sweetheart?”

“If you’re running, Sam, then I am, too. Period. Are we going, or not?” Gabe set the coffee cup on the table, and looked sternly at Sam.

Sam sighed. “Okay. Here we go.” Sam led the way out of the kitchen, up the iron steps to the front door, outside, and along the path to the thirty-mile trail that led through town. Gabe followed along doggedly, as usual.

_I am your Guardian. I will keep up with you. I will protect you. No matter how many times I’ve failed before, I will succeed this time._

“Hello, Sam; Gabriel.”

Sam and Gabe both stopped short, stunned, at the sudden appearance of the attractive black woman in their path.

“Billie. I…I suppose it’d be trite to say that I wasn’t expecting you.” Sam half-chuckled at his joke.

“Oh, relax, Sam. I’m not here to take either of you, and not anyone currently residing or working in the Bunker, either. By the way, I like your Mr. Murray. Very polite. He did give you and Dean my messages, I assume?”

Sam nodded. “Um, yes, he did.”

“Well? Hadn’t you best get on it?” Billie tapped her foot impatiently.

“Billie, look, I don’t know quite how to put this, but… I have no claim, nor any desire to have a claim, on the throne of Hell.”

“Of course you have a claim. Azazel put it in for you ages ago, before you were even born. And yours is the best one out there, now, what with Lucifer, the four Princes, and all the Knights of Hell – except for Dean, of course, who’s been cured of being a demon, but will forever hold the title as a bit of ironic courtesy – as well as Crowley, the only former “King,” gone to the Empty.”

“Really? Because I would’ve thought Rowena would have put in a claim, by now,” Sam said.

“Oh, she did, and she’s on the throne right now, as we speak, as Hell’s current Queen. But if _you_ claimed the throne, she’d move her cute butt out of it for you in a second. Sam, it’s where you’re meant to be and what you’re meant to be doing. It doesn’t necessarily mean _living_ there; you could commute. And it doesn’t mean ruling over a bunch of demons, if you don’t want it to. You could… _redecorate_.”

“Billie, I have no intention of taking over in Hell, commuting to Hell, redecorating Hell, or in any other way having _anything_ to do with Hell, period. If Rowena’s on the throne, good for her; if she wants it, she can have it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, since you said you weren’t here to take me, I have a marathon to train for.” Sam set his jaw, and ran on. Gabe took a moment to shrug and put his hands up in a silent “whatcha gonna do?” gesture, then ran off after Sam.

Billie grunted in frustration, and vanished.

Sam Gabe 

***

_Dean was walking down a long hallway of closed doors; he felt at once like it was very familiar, and yet like he was utterly lost. He didn’t bother trying the doors to see if they would open, although he wasn’t sure why; he just felt like there was somewhere else he needed to be. The hallway came to an intersection, and he started to turn left. But then he stopped. This was **really** oddly familiar. He’d been here before – **recently**. He was sure of it. _

_He knew he’d taken this left turn many, many times. Left seemed comfortable. But **was** it? Why didn’t he remember **ever** turning right? Or going straight? What would happen if he did? He deliberately turned right; realizing that he was suddenly walking more cautiously, he huffed out a laugh. Nothing was going to happen, here; he was fine, this excessive caution was silly. Nevertheless, he chose his footing carefully, where before he’d been merely walking along. _

_Dean shook his head. This was **wrong** , somehow, dangerous. He paused, and half-turned to leave. Then he laughed at himself. He continued on his chosen path. But something in his head, some voice, was whispering caution, go back, leave this place, not safe, NOT SAFE, **DANGER**._

_There. A door was open. He walked carefully up to it, but somehow couldn’t see beyond the doorway. He carefully inserted just his face in through the doorway – saw Hell – and tried to pull back. Too late._

_He screamed as two clouds of black smoke – vessel-less demons – seized him by the ears and dragged him all the way in. He tried to call out for help, but one of the clouds wound around his head to silence and blind him. He felt the smoke strapping him to the rack, locking him into place and gagging him tightly, and he whimpered._

_The smoke cleared, and Alastair appeared in front of Dean, carrying his favorite scalpel. Dean, knowing it was utterly futile, still desperately tried to shrink back, to struggle, to squirm, but couldn’t effect even the tiniest of movements._

_“Helllllo, Dean. I won’t be removing the gag, this time; I learn my lesson. Shame you never seem to. So, shall we begin?” Alastair stepped closer, and traced the edge of the knife lightly down from Dean’s ear to the collar of his shirt. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt – Dean didn’t feel a thing. But then, as Alastair raised a finger smeared with Dean’s blood to sniff it, then lick it clean, Dean realized – the knife was simply too sharp, the first cut too shallow._

_Alastair sliced Dean’s shirt to ribbons with a few swift cuts, then ripped it from him. Dean couldn’t shrink back any further; he was all the way back against the rack, pressed tightly up against the wooden frame._

_“Oh, I almost forgot your ring, Dean. Seems to me I exhibited terrible manners, just terrible, last time you graced me with your presence here; I failed to congratulate you on your engagement. Not that it matters, Dean. You still belong to **me**. You always will.”_

_Dean shook his head violently._

_“No? I suppose you think you’re your own man? Or did you think that Castiel had some claim on you now? No. I have a **prior** claim, Dean. I own you, by your own admission. You **gave** yourself to me, willingly. When you got down off the rack, that was part of the deal, don’t you remember? By day, my apprentice torturer; by night, my willing love slave. There was no expiration date on our agreement, Dean. Castiel may have stolen you from me temporarily, and your brother may have killed me, but you are still my property. Castiel may have left a handprint on your shoulder (which, by the way, is faded away completely, now), and etched sigils onto your ribs that keep you from angel-sight, but I branded your **soul** , Dean. Your soul and your body belong to me, forever, whether I’m alive or not. And you gave me **yourself** , Dean.”_

_Dean continued to shake his head. Alastair just laughed, a low, vicious chuckle; it filled Dean with dread. Alastair began to carve shallow light patterns into Dean’s skin, the blood dripping from wounds across his torso, still utterly without pain, but Dean knew that wouldn’t last._

_“I told you before, and it’s still true. There is no scenario where you end up in Heaven, Dean. Doesn’t matter if Castiel ends up in charge with the power to change the rules. Doesn’t matter a bit, because you deserve to go to Hell, Dean. You were condemned by your own hand. Long before you came downstairs, the first time you took a life, Dean – that was **murder**. Oh, you prettied it up, sure; you were killing **monsters**. They **had** to die. You were saving people. You had all **kinds** of justifications. So did your father – but he went down, too. And your father **didn’t** actually sell his soul for your life, Dean. He gave Azazel the **Colt** for your life. No, your father came downstairs because he was a **sinner**. He broke God’s laws. And even then, I still couldn’t get him to take the deal you did. _

_“You were just as much a sinner as your father before you ever made the deal for Sam’s life – that was why the crossroads demon with which you dealt was so hesitant, she knew she was getting tainted goods. She took the deal anyway because Azazel told her to – he wanted Sam on Earth for his little contest, knew Sam was a better vessel for Lucifer, was stronger than Jake ever thought of being. And, of course, Azazel wanted **you** down here as insurance – if Daddy couldn’t be persuaded to make the deal, maybe you could. And you **could** , Dean; you did. **You did!** And you did so **enjoy** torturing souls. Why, even after Castiel broke you out, you **still** tortured. Sometimes for the angels, sometimes for yourself. Admit it, Dean; you **love** to torture. You don’t feel **right** anymore unless you’re being tortured, or you’re torturing someone else – you were a sinner before you ever came down, your soul broken and polluted. _

_“You made a joke a while back, that maybe you should have been called ‘the Self-Righteous Man.’ It’s not really much of a joke, Dean. It’s more simple truth. Every time you’ve been distrustful of your brother, it wasn’t because of anything Sam did. It was because you knew that you would break under the same circumstances. And yet you are so Holier-Than-Thou to Sam. It’s a wonder he doesn’t curl his hand and snap your neck from across the room. Oh, yes – he **could**. Azazel didn’t give him the power, he just gave it a nudge, got it to wake up. Sam’s always been a rather powerful psychic, even without demon blood. The blood only ever gave him **confidence**. Confidence he lacked because of you and John, constantly harping on him.”_

_Alastair snapped his fingers and Dean was flipped around to face the rack, and his jeans and boxers were cut away as well, then Alastair snapped away the boots and socks, and Dean was naked, bound face down to the rack._

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Wonder why Billie is so interested in having Sam take over Hell? Poor Gabe; whatcha gonna do, indeed?
> 
> Dean really has to start remembering to stop turning right. ;)
> 
> Comments? Story? Art? Anything? Pwease? *blink blink*


	142. What Dreams Are Made Of...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's dream continues. He wakes to find that at least part of it was real. Dean talks to Cas. More art!

_Dean suddenly realized – this was a dream. He remembered the last dream, just the night before at the B &B, and how he’d called for Cas, but Cas hadn’t heard, despite being in the same room, because **there was no real threat**. Alastair himself had admitted that he was dead. He wasn’t even a ‘memory with intent’, like Lucifer and Michael in Sam’s head – he was simply a figment of Dean’s imagination, part of his subconscious. This was just shit Dean needed to process, needed to get past, in order to be healthy. Like the time that Gabriel had sent him and Sam to TV Land, **the only way out was through**. But he **would** make it out, and once he did, this would be **over**._

_So, he stopped squirming, trying futilely to press himself into the wooden rack. There was no point to it, and it just didn’t matter anyway. Nothing Alastair did here would last, nor would any of it be new; this was a memory, combined with Dean’s own imagination – nothing more. Dean could relax._

_But then Alastair stepped up behind him, gripped the cheeks of Dean’s ass with each hand, and spread him apart – and thoughts of relaxation dissolved back into terror as Alastair’s cock punched viciously into him, dry. The physical pain of being so roughly used, with no prep at all, the mental anguish of being taken at all, by anyone but Cas – even in just a dream – made Dean scream. The gag made the scream soundless, but Alastair was aware of it, nevertheless. He laughed._

_“Yes, Dean, pet, scream all you like. But I’m only getting started. And when I’m through, you’ll remember your place, and be happy to serve in it once again – at my side by day, and at my feet by night.”_

Alastair 

***

Dean sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. He looked around, and recognized their bed, the room he shared with Cas, saw that Cas was asleep next to him, and he relaxed.

_Just another damn dream. I’m fine. Cas got me out, I’ve been free of Hell and Alastair for over a decade. Sammy killed Alastair; he’s dead – even he says so. It was just a dream. I’m okay._

Except that now Dean was a little afraid of going back to sleep. If he had to go through this dream, get past these memories, work through this part of his subconscious, in order to heal, it meant going back to Hell, at least in his head. And this was twice in two sleep cycles, one Wednesday night into early Thursday morning, one Thursday night into early Friday morning.

And, when Dean moved cautiously to the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb Cas – _his ass hurt_.

Dean slid out of bed, and padded to the door; he glanced back at Cas, who was still sound asleep.

_No real threat, then, right?_

Cas wouldn’t sleep through a real threat to Dean. Dean headed to the bathroom.

Once there, he brushed his teeth and used the toilet, then pulled out a towel for a shower. He pulled his pj shirt up and over his head, and gasped in pain. He looked in the mirror – and saw dozens of healing, tiny, shallow cuts, all over his torso, neck to navel. Everywhere Alastair had painlessly sliced in his dream, no longer painless in the cold light of morning.

 _What the Hell?_ _This is more than coincidence; this is downright frightening._

He turned on the water for the shower, and waited for it to get hot. He was going to have to talk to Cas about these dreams. He’d been hoping he could wait and just speak to Mia about them, but if he was going to be in real danger from his own subconscious, that wasn’t something that could wait, not even for just a few days until his next appointment. Either Cas would have to shut off his REM cycle, as he’d done for Sam, or accompany him when he went through his memory palace (he assumed that’s what that hallway with all the doors was, from Cas’ description of Sam’s) in his dream, to keep him away from that right-hand hallway, and out of that damned room.

Dean frowned. Why did he keep thinking it was okay to turn right there at that hallway intersection? Why did he keep wanting to do so? If he just turned left, it wouldn’t be an issue – he wouldn’t get to that door, wouldn’t feel so curious about what was going on inside that open doorway he couldn’t see through. And why an intersection at all? What was up ahead, if he chose to just go straight? Why turn at all? From what Cas had said about Sam’s memory palace, it was all just one long corridor, except where an area had been carved out for Sam’s memories of The Cage – that was the only intersection. Did all memories of Hell rate an intersection? Did that mean going straight, or to the left – one or the other – would get him to his memories of Purgatory, and Benny?

_It would be good to see Benny again. Though not necessarily to have to go back to Purgatory to do it._

Dean stepped into the shower and stood under the hot water, running his hands through his hair and over his face, bending his head to let the water sluice down the back of his neck, hissing as it hit the cuts.

_Yeah, those are really real. Ouch._

Maybe there were clues in what Alastair had said in his dreams the last two nights. His own subconscious couldn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know, but it could reveal things that he’d hidden from himself, things he’d forgotten or repressed. So maybe write out what Alastair had said, then go back through it, and try to figure out what his dream was trying to tell him to remember? If he remembered enough, maybe he wouldn’t have to go through any more of it?

_That might work._

Dean shampooed his hair quickly, rinsed, turned the water off, and stepped out. He toweled dry, then wrapped the towel around his waist, and went back to the bedroom he shared with Cas. As he’d hoped, Cas was still sleeping, so he quietly pulled out a pair of sweatpants, boxers, and a baggy sweatshirt, dressed quickly, then headed for the kitchen.

He poured two mugs of coffee, doctored one for Cas, and headed back to their room.

He smiled softly at his fiancé. He set his own coffee down on the bedside table, then held Cas’ mug a couple of inches below Cas’ nose, which started to twitch as the enticing aroma rose to invade his nostrils.

Cas opened one eye, and looked balefully up at Dean. “Coffee?” he asked, hopefully.

“Of course, Angel. A whole mug, just for you. But you have to sit up to drink it, baby.”

Cas groaned softly, but hauled himself up to sit back against the headboard. “ _Gimme_.”

Dean handed Cas his mug, then picked his own back up off the bedside table, and sipped, letting the bitter scent of the ambrosia rise up in his sinuses from his throat. He was more of a morning person than Cas, but he still needed caffeine pretty desperately.

Cas gulped a little, then closed his eyes and sipped more slowly. He peeked out under his lashes to look at Dean. He could tell a discussion was coming, and that Dean was worried, just from Dean’s face. He gave Dean the courtesy of not reading his private thoughts, trusting that his lover would tell him everything anyway.

“No falling back to sleep, Cas.” Dean smirked. “It’s time to get up, even if I didn’t have something that I needed to talk to you about, as we have to get repacked and back on the road to Sioux Falls today. Lots to do, and I _do_ have to talk to you, first. So, rise and shine. Or at least _pretend_ , please.”

Cas smiled, reluctantly, and opened his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Easy for _you_ to say. You’ve been alive – what, 40 years? You have such a short time of being habitually awake at a certain time. I spent _eons_ on the Garrison’s second watch. I’ll _never_ be used to mornings.”

“Poor baby. Shall I kiss it and make it better?” Dean grinned.

“Yes, please. If you can find an ‘it’ to kiss.” Cas’ use of air quotes never failed to make Dean roll his eyes.

“Well, I can spend a little time searching, I suppose.” Dean set his coffee down, took Cas’ now empty mug from him and set it down as well, then pounced, peppering kisses over Cas’ face and neck.

Cas giggled helplessly. “That tickles! Stop! Stop!”

Dean stopped, and just cuddled with his angel for a moment.

Cas stroked Dean’s hair gently. “What is it, my heart? Tell me.”

“I’ve been having dreams, about Alastair. Two, now. One this morning, here; one yesterday morning, at the B&B. During yesterday’s, I screamed for you, but you didn’t come, and when I woke up just afterward, you were still sound asleep. You slept through this morning’s dream, too. So, I figured there was no real threat, and I was okay, or you would have awakened, and since I know Alastair is dead, I’m thinking this is just my subconscious, trying to tell me something, or to remind me of something important that I had forgotten, or repressed. It wasn't like that earlier dream, where Alastair was able to bring me so low, so quickly. Except….”

“Except what, baby?”

Dean sat up and took the sweatshirt off. Cas gasped as he saw the cuts, which by now were all scabbed over.

“Those are from this morning’s dream. I didn’t have them when I went to sleep last night, woke up with them after I dreamt that Alastair was carving into me with his scalpel. Dozens of tiny shallow cuts, which, in the dream, were painless, but in the shower this morning, stung when the hot water hit them. They’re real. I know it can be possible for there to be a physical manifestation of the subconscious mind, but this seems a bit much.”

“Indeed.” 

Cas 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the bloody hell is Dean's subconscious trying to say?? Poor guy.
> 
> And if there is a real threat - as real cuts would seem to signify, why the heck is Cas just sleeping through it? For that matter, why is Cas sleeping so much lately, when his grace was fully charged? Hmm.
> 
> Please comment! What are you liking/disliking about the story? Let me know - should I stop with the art, or keep going? I'm really not at all confident in my pseudo-talent as an artist. As an author, a little more so. ;)  
> Comments are life!!! 
> 
> (And how are things going in self-isolation/quarantine where you are? We are having some trouble getting basics here, like isopropyl rubbing alcohol, for some odd reason. But milk, eggs, cheese, no problem. Go figure.)


	143. Data Breach, Anyone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody investigates at the bank.

Sioux Falls Bank & Trust wasn’t a large bank; it only had just the main office, and a few ATMs around town. But Jody’s late husband had been an employee, back in the day, and when he’d died, she’d never bothered to move her accounts. When Claire and Alex had come to live with her, it had just seemed natural to open accounts for them there, as well.

Jody stepped into the bank and spoke briefly with the manager, Charles, seeking permission to take one teller at a time out of the teller window and into the break room for a small chat. The manager was all too willing to be cooperative with the Sheriff, as well as happy to help his friend, the widow of his late best friend, and the foster mother of the bank’s current largest depository customer, Claire Novak. 

Jody started with Enid, the teller who had processed Claire’s initial deposit of the check from the insurance company. Claire had simultaneously withdrawn a large sum to tide her over with a little splurging indulgence while waiting for the deposit to process, and Enid remembered it all very clearly.

“It was the most excitement we’ve had in SFB&T since… well, since ever, Sheriff!”

Jody smiled, though internally she was raising an eyebrow; excitement? Clare had said she’d kept the transactions quiet and tried not to draw attention to them. “I’m sure. We were pretty excited ourselves. Now, Enid, did you also help Claire with her later transactions, or do you know who did?”

“Well, I remember Claire came in a couple of times. She did one wire transfer, to a Cas Novak, who I assumed must be a relative, though we had all thought she had no relatives, to be fostered with you like that, and I assisted with that, and I remember it because I can count on one hand and have fingers left over the number of times I’ve had to do a wire transfer. I had to look up the procedures for it, so it stands out in my mind. Then she came back and got a couple of cashier’s checks made out to a couple of men, and I helped with that as well, and I remember that because they had gun names.”

“Gun names?” Jody asked, a blank look on her face.

“Well, yeah. One was named ‘Smith’ and the other ‘Wesson.’ You know, Smith & Wesson, the gun manufacturer. Gun names.”

“Ah. Anything else you recall, Enid?”

“Well, I remember seeing Claire in here a few other times, but I didn’t process those transactions. I think it was… yes, it was Ginny, because I remember her telling me, that Claire got cashier’s checks, for you, Alex, and another woman, but neither of us knew the third woman. I know we shouldn’t have been gossiping, but for Claire to come into such a large amount, and then to give so much of it away, it was just the dearest thing. It was a topic of conversation among all the bank’s employees for weeks!”

Jody wondered if the teller realized she’d just confessed that “all the bank’s employees” had been violating federal bank privacy and secrecy laws “for weeks,” and realized she was going to have to call in both the Secret Service and the FBI to clean this up; SFB&T would be lucky to remain open. But that wasn’t Jody’s primary concern just now, and she didn’t want further gossip to spoil the feds’ fun once they arrived, so she didn’t clue Enid in.

“Well, Enid, thank you, it’s been… illuminating, speaking with you. Do you happen to know if Ginny is here today?”

“Oh, yes, she’s stationed at the teller window next to me!”

“Okay, great. Why don’t you head on back to work, now, and ask Ginny to come on back to speak with me for a minute?”

“Oh, sure, Sheriff, I’ll send her right back!”

Jody rolled her eyes once Enid had left the room. A moment later, another teller that Jody vaguely recognized came into the break room.

“Sheriff? Enid said you needed to speak with me?”

“Ginny? Yes, please, come in and have a seat, this should only take a moment or two.” Jody waved her over to a chair, and Ginny seated herself.

“So, I gather that Claire Novak coming into some money was a bit of a surprise and a topic of conversation around here, hmm?”

Ginny nodded. “Yes, it was. We were all so pleased for her. I know I was. I’ve worked here about seven years, and I remember when you first brought Alex, and then Claire, in to open their accounts with us. And my sister knew Alex in school, a little, so I know those girls both had a… well, what they call a ‘challenging past’ before you took them in. So, for Claire to get that insurance payout, and then to give so much of it away to friends and family…. Well, it was touching, Sheriff. We all thought so.”

So they’d discussed not just the existence of Claire’s fortune, but the amount of it, as well. Jody was thinking privately about where to move her money, and whether she could accomplish that before calling the feds, when she asked the next question, to which she really hadn’t been expecting an affirmative response.

“So, Ginny, just to dot all the I’s… Did you ever mention Claire’s transactions to anyone outside of SFB&T? Someone not an employee of the bank?”

“Oh, of course, we all follow the protocol.” Ginny nodded.

Taken by surprise, Jody blinked. “Ah, right, the… protocol. Could you just walk me through that, Ginny?”

“Oh, sure. Well, of course, any time we have a deposit of more than $10,000, or if an account goes over that amount, we’re required to notify FDIC and the IRS, and we do that by email. And then we have to make the secondary phone call to outside counsel’s office.”

“I’m not familiar with the ins and outs of banking procedure, Ginny. Outside counsel?”

“Oh, sure, see, all the federal agencies have outside counsel, law firms that they’ve engaged to assist their in-house counsel, and the protocol is to keep them in the loop with the large transaction notifications, and we do that with a phone call.”

“Just out of curiosity, Ginny, what information do you give outside counsel about these large transaction notifications?”

“The name of the customer, the amount of the transaction, and if it’s an outgoing transaction, the name of the recipient, so the agency can track to make sure the recipient’s financial institution also reports it properly at their end. Checks and balances, you know!” Ginny nodded again, secure in the correctness of the procedure she was describing.

Jody was horrified by the casual confessions to violations of federal laws she was hearing about, but she kept her face carefully blank. “Ginny, by any chance, do you have the name of the outside counsel’s firm handy?”

“Oh, sure; well, not on me, but we have the information in the tellers’ cage. I can get a copy for you, no problem, Sheriff.”

“Would you, please?”

“Absolutely!” Ginny rose and rushed from the room, returning a moment later with a sheet of paper.

“Okay, Sheriff, so we primarily do business with banks in maybe five other states. If we have a transaction where the recipient isn’t in one of these five states, we call one of these numbers and are referred to the outside counsel’s office for the state we need. But if it’s a transaction in Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota, or North Dakota, we call the designated office in that state, and the information we need for that call is right here.”

“So, when Claire did a wire transfer or a cashier’s check to someone in Kansas, you would have had to get a referral, then?”

“Correct. But when she did the cashier’s checks to you, Alex, and the third woman, who was, I believe, in Minnesota? … Yeah, that sounds right… and I processed those, I had all the information I needed to make the calls to the counsel here in South Dakota, and to the outside counsel in Minnesota.”

“And so you went ahead and took care of that, I’m assuming.”

“Oh, absolutely, Sheriff, right away. I don’t think Claire had even left the lobby before I was on the computer to send the email to FDIC and the IRS, and then I got right on the phone for those two calls before I even started thinking about anything else!”

“Mmhmm, okay, Ginny, thank you. You can head on back to work, and could you ask Charles to stop back here for a quick word, please?”

“Sure, Sheriff!” Ginny left the room, and Jody sank into a chair, her head spinning. The Bank Secrecy Act, the Right to Financial Privacy Act, possibly the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act – hell, maybe even the USA Patriot Act – just blithely ignored, as if these women had never had an ounce of training. Maybe they hadn’t. That was a scary thought.

Charles sauntered in. “You get what you need, Jody?”

“Charles… we need to have a very serious chat.”

Jody 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Well, I guess we know how Doug's attorney found out about Claire's gift to Donna! ;)
> 
> Comments are life, people!!! :D


	144. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas surprises Dean. Jody surprises Sam. Sam asks Gabe to warn Cas and Dean. Jody surprises Donna. Gabe surprises Cas and Dean. Dean surprises Donna.

Dean zipped the suitcase closed, and checked his duffel bag. He nodded as he put the last two items he needed in the bag: his journal notebook, and his pen. He zipped it shut. Ready to go.

He was the only one with any luggage; Sam was staying here, and the angels would simply fly in an hour before the meeting. Except then Cas came in with his suitcase and duffel bag.

“Cas? You’re bringing bags?”

“Yes, Dean. I’m riding with you, as well.”

“O-okay, that’s fine, Cas, but… why?”

“I like spending time with my fiancé. Is that a problem, Dean?” Cas was bent down adjusting the zipper on his suitcase, and he looked up to smile at Dean.

“Well, no, Cas, of course not. But luggage?”

“Dean, you’ve made it clear that you don’t like Jimmy’s old suit, and you’re right. So, now that I have clothing options, I wish to utilize them. Is _that_ a problem, Dean?” Cas looked at Dean sideways, and straightened, so that their eyes met.

“Um, no. All righty then. If you’re riding with me, let’s get this show on the road. Everyone else is flying, right?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean nodded, and headed for the garage.

***

Sam’s cell phone rang. “Hey, Jody, what’s up?”

“Sam? Has Dean left yet? I tried his phone first, but it went to voice mail.”

“Um, not sure. Is there a problem?”

“Well, the real FBI, Secret Service, and even some DOJ agents are all over the place up here right now. Not sure Dean wants to show his face here, not even as Dean Smith, right now.”

“What’s going on, Jody?” Sam headed for the garage, to see if he could flag Dean down.

“Remember how odd it was that Donna got those papers from Doug’s attorney in the mail only a day after she’d deposited the check from Claire? Well, I did some digging, found out how it happened, and it involves violation of about eight federal statutes. I didn’t have a choice, Sam, I had to call D.C. My own assets may be frozen temporarily as a result of this investigation. Hold on." Jody covered the phone, but Sam could hear her calling in response to an inquiry, "Be right there, Agent!" Then she came back to the call. "Look, I’ll explain it all later, but for now, just don’t let Dean come anywhere near Sioux Falls. In fact, South Dakota might be a problem in general.” Jody ended the call.

Sam arrived at the garage just in time to see the door closing, the Impala on the other side. As he walked back to the library, Sam tried Dean’s cell, then Cas’; both went directly to voice mail.

“What’s the matter, Samshine?” Gabe asked, as Sam entered the library.

“Gabe. Excellent. I need you to stop Dean and Cas.”

“Stop them from what? I thought you were in favor of them getting married?”

“I am. Not that. They just got on the road for Sioux Falls, but Jody called me, and Dean can’t go anywhere near South Dakota right now. Apparently, there’s a huge federal investigation going on, and Dean’s likely to be arrested and dragged off to that federal fortress prison that doesn’t officially exist again, if not shot on sight. Jody and I both tried to call Dean’s cell, but it went to voice mail; I tried Cas’ cell, same thing. So, I need you to….”

“Fly into the Impala and tell them to turn around. On it.” Gabe vanished.

Sam 

***

Donna answered her cell phone. “Sheriff Hanscum.”

“Donna? It’s Jody.”

“Oh, hey, Jodes, what’s up?”

“Donna, I found out how Doug’s attorney knew about the check. I don’t have time to explain to you right now, just wanted to let you know. I’m gonna call your attorney in a little bit here, tell her what I know. But I gotta go. Really busy, feds all over the place here. Bye!” Jody ended the call.

“Well, you have a good day, too!” Donna huffed out a laugh, and got back to work. Her attorney would call when she called, until then, there was work to do.

***

“Hey, bro-skis, how’s it hangin’?” Gabe appeared in the back seat of the Impala, and Dean about jumped out of his skin.

“I will never, ever get used to that.” Dean shook his head. “What do you want, Gabe?”

“You two bozos to turn around. Apparently, Jody called Sam, there’s a huge federal investigation in Sioux Falls, she doesn’t want anyone named ‘Winchester’ anywhere near South Dakota right now, you’re likely to be shot on sight by some stray Fibbie. So, we need to find an alternate location for our little meeting with Auntie Amara, tout suite. And it can’t be the bunker, unless you want Sam, with Lucifer and Michael ripe for the picking, present when she is.”

“Shit.” Dean was driving up on an exit, anyway, so he took it, then re-entered the highway going in the other direction, back toward the bunker.

“Precisely.” Gabe pulled a lollipop out of his jacket pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth.

“An alternate location…. I can’t think of anything,” Cas said.

Dean rubbed his face. “I can, but I don’t know if she’d let us use it for a meeting with Amara.”

“Who? What place?” Cas wanted to know.

“Donna’s got a hunting cabin out in the woods, north of Minneapolis. It’s a longer drive, but we could still make it there in time to ward the place, although it won’t be warded as well as Bobby’s place or the bunker. Then we only have to change the location, and not the date and time. The fewer changes we have to make, the better.” Dean pulled over to the side of the road and dialed Donna’s cell phone.

“Sheriff Hanscum.”

“Donna? Dean. Got a question for you. Would your old hunting cabin be available this weekend?”

“Oh, hey, Dean. Yeah, sure, I wasn’t planning to use it. Why, what’s up?”

“I can’t explain completely, but if I could use it, with some friends, we’d really appreciate it. But Donna, I have to ask that you stay away. I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t if it weren’t important, but it is.”

“Well, of course, Dean. But if you’re having some kind of drunken binge of a bachelor party, you clean up after yourselves, y’hear? What time can you be here by to pick up the key?”

“We will not be drinking, and I promise, if there’s any kind of mess, we will clean it up before we leave. Ah, according to Google maps, I can be there in just over 9 hours, if I drive straight through; it’s 10:00 AM now, so we could be there by 7:00 PM, say more like 8:00 PM with breaks.”

“How about you shoot for 9:00 PM and get some dinner at some point, too. You’re not driving all alone, are you?”

“No, Donna, Cas is with me.”

“Okay. Come to the house. I’ll expect you at 9:00. Bye.” Donna ended the call.

“Okay, Gabe, here’s the plan. We’ll have the meeting at Donna’s hunting cabin outside Stillwater, Minnesota. Cas and I will drive up tonight and get the key, and stay in the cabin overnight. You, Balth, and Hannah fly in tomorrow as planned, but come an extra hour early so we can work on the warding we’ll need, yeah?” Dean said.

“Might come earlier than that. This is Amara, the warding ain’t gonna be simple. But yeah, it works. All right, we’ll see you in the morning. I’ll let Sam know the change in plans. Drive safe.” Gabe vanished.

“You okay with this, Cas?”

“It’s not as safe as it would have been at Bobby’s. I would prefer to have his excellently constructed panic room available for your safety. But I believe that four angels should be sufficient to guard one human. So, yes, I am ‘okay with this,’ Dean.”

Dean got the car back on the road, and used a turnaround to get back in the right direction.

Donna 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More art! 
> 
> Please comment! Are you still alive? Are you going crazy from self-isolation/quarantine? Are you enjoying the story, if not the time between updates? Do you like the art? Am I just talking to myself? Heck, I haven't left my house in 3 weeks, for all I know, I might be! ;) Talk to me, people! :D


	145. Everyone's Hungry; Ain't Nobody Eatin' Yet...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas stop at a roadside diner. Gabe agrees to make more muffins for Shann. Jody promises an affidavit to Donna's attorney, then asks Claire to order Chinese. It's really all about the food.

Around noon, Dean spotted a sign for a diner at the next exit. “Hungry, Angel?”

“No. I don’t eat, Dean.”

“Willing to humor me while I eat, then?”

“Of course, my heart.” Cas smiled, reached over, and gently rubbed Dean’s knee for a second. “We have time.”

Dean took the exit for York, Nebraska; turned right at the end of the ramp, as the sign had indicated; found the Huddle House restaurant not too far up the road, turned right again into the parking lot, parked the car, and switched Baby off. “If you want, I can just run in and get take out, and then you can drive while I eat.”

“You’d… you’d let _me_ drive Baby?” Cas gasped.

“Well, sure. She’s gonna be half yours, Angel.” Dean grinned. _Finally_ , something tangible he could give to Castiel, something _valuable_ , that meant as much to Cas as it did to him. A last name, and half his car.

“Oh. Oh, Dean. I didn’t… didn’t realize…. Really?” Cas squeaked a bit at the end, and Dean’s grin got wider. Dean turned to Cas, and drew him in for a kiss.

“Really. I don’t have much, Cas, but what I have is yours to share.”

***

Gabriel materialized in the bedroom he shared with Sam. He knew Sam was in the library, and he could have gone directly there, but he knew it still unnerved Shann a little to have him materialize out of nowhere unexpectedly, even though he hadn’t been rattled the first time, and he liked the file clerk.

_No point in giving the guy more stress migraines than he absolutely has to have; he’s bound to have plenty as it is._

Although Gabe had been accused (often) of being brash and obnoxious, the truth was that he liked to be considerate to those whose company he enjoyed. He simply didn’t suffer fools. At all.

He left the bedroom and walked down the hall into the War Room, then turned into the kitchen to check on the baked goods supply.

_Need more muffins and cookies. Check._

Then he went back out into and through the War Room, into the library, and found Sam and Shann at work. Since they were still leaving Shann out of the council discussions regarding Amara and God, Gabe caught Sam’s eye and gestured with his head toward the sound-proofed office. Sam nodded and held up two fingers to indicate he’d follow shortly, as soon as he finished his current reading. Gabe nodded back, and went down the hall to wait.

He didn’t have to wait long; Sam had only a short paragraph to finish.

“Hey, Shann, I’ll be right back, Gabe needs to talk to me. You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good. Tell him we’re running low on muffins, though.”

“He knows!” Sam laughed, and followed Gabe down the hall, into the office. He shut the door behind him, and quirked an eyebrow at the Archangel. “’Sup, Baby? Did you catch up with Dean and Cas?”

“Yeah. New plan – they’re heading up to Donna’s hunting cabin in Minnesota. They’ll get the key from her tonight. Balth, Hannah, and I will fly up in the morning to help with the warding the cabin needs. It won’t be as good as either the Bunker or Bobby’s panic room would have been, but it’ll be enough. We’ll have the meeting, Dean and Cas and I will clean up the cabin and cover up the warding, then I’ll fly back here; I assume Balth and Hannah will either return here, or to Heaven, at least temporarily, but we can discuss that with them later. Dean and Cas will return the key to Donna, and drive back.”

“Well, that’s better than having Dean walk into a hive of Feds, but it’s disappointing for Dean and Cas.” Sam sighed.

“Disappointing?”

“Yeah, they were going to tell Claire about the engagement this weekend, in person. I suppose Cas could still fly over and talk to her on his own, but they wanted to do it together, and now they can’t. Plus, Dean wanted to get moving on hiring people for the Salvage Yard and sorting the inventory, restoring the cars, etc. I suppose he can start with the Men of Letters’ vehicles here, but….”

“But it’s not the same,” Gabe finished. “I know. Well, Claire will understand, right? If Dean’s not there, or they have to wait or tell her on the phone?”

“Yeah, she will. Just, like you said, not the same.” Sam looked dejected on his brother’s behalf.

Gabe slid his arm around Sam’s waist and tugged him in for a hug. “It’ll be okay, Samshine.”

Sam dropped a kiss on the top of Gabe’s head. “Thanks. By the way, Shann said to remind you about the…”

“Muffins, I know! I’m going, I’m going!” Gabe acted put-upon, but Sam wasn’t fooled, and grinned at him.

“You love it.”

“I do. And _you_ , Samshine; and you.”

***

Jody dropped into the chair in her office with a sigh of relief at 3:39 PM. For the moment, the Feds – while not gone entirely – were done with _her_ , and she could relax a bit and call Donna’s attorney to give her the promised report, now that the full story was becoming clear. She took a deep breath, then sat up straight and picked up the phone, dialing quickly.

“Sheriff Jody Mills for Attorney Weidermeier, please. Yes, I’ll wait, but I believe she’s expecting my call.” Jody resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn’t the well-trained receptionist’s fault.

“Attorney Weidermeier? Hi, Jody Mills…. I spoke briefly with Donna earlier, but wasn’t able to tell her much at the time. But we did find out quite a bit today, and I feel we can put the mystery of the too-quick motion to bed, here…. Yeah, turns out, the bank where I and my foster daughters do our banking – primarily because my late husband used to work there – was one of several banks that had been – well, corrupted, for lack of a better term – by a ring of unscrupulous law firms.

“These firms, each operating in one of several states, pretended to be ‘outside counsel’ for a federal agency, usually the IRS, and set it up with the bank so that when a transaction in an amount over $10,000 was made, the law firm for that state would be notified, along with the IRS and FDIC. The agencies got an email, but the firm got a phone call – harder to track. And if the transaction was outgoing, there was a firm in the recipient’s state that got a phone call, too.

“Now, most of these calls went nowhere. But the firms had a list of names, and if the bank’s customer, or the recipient of an outgoing transaction, was on that list, that meant that someone had an interest in that person’s transactions, and that someone would somehow get word of the transaction – how, exactly, we’re still working out all the details, but in Donna’s case, it was pretty straight-forward – Doug’s attorney works for the firm that was supposedly ‘outside counsel’ in Minnesota, so his firm got a call directly from the bank as soon as my foster daughter had the cashier’s check made out to Donna – probably before Claire had even driven out of the bank’s parking lot.

“So, the firm finds out about the transaction, and they let Doug know, ‘hey, there’s money here to potentially go after.’…. That would have been about a week and a half before Donna made the deposit and then got the motion in the mail the next day, correct….

“Well, ma’am, I specifically asked the Federal agents about that. Since my investigation began specifically because of Donna’s situation, they’ve authorized me to give you an affidavit regarding what exactly I learned on my own, and the little bit more than I just shared with you. I cannot give you a copy of the list or the ‘protocol’ documents, as those have been seized for purposes of the federal government’s investigation….

“No, ma’am, I don’t know, and so can’t say, how many law firms and banks are involved…. No, I can’t say whether any of the federal agents would agree to speak with you about their investigation, but I can ask and give them your information; afraid that’s the best I can do…. I can tell you that the agents here are from the FBI and Secret Service, and the Department of Justice sent a bunch of attorneys who sure act like agents, but apparently technically aren’t; they’re just here to tell the FBI agents exactly what they need to look for to make DOJ’s case, I guess….

“Yes, ma’am, I will get that affidavit to you as soon as my office gets it typed up and signed; do you need the original signature document, or is an email copy sufficient?... Will do…. Yes, ma’am, we’ll do that…. Well, thank you, I’m glad we could resolve this as quickly as we did. Really, it took very little prodding for the whole scheme to fall apart…. Well, you too, and good luck with Donna’s case…. Okay, bye.”

Jody hung up, and slumped back in her chair again, exhausted. She still had 90 minutes of her shift to finish; she’d dictate the affidavit and get someone going on typing it up, then go home. She could sign and email it out in the morning. She picked up her cell and dialed a different number.

“Claire? How do you feel about ordering Chinese for dinner?”

“Yeah, I can do that, Jodes. The usual?”

“Yeah. Hey, I need to tell you, _our expected guests_ couldn’t make it this weekend. I’ll tell you why later, when I get home, but I don’t have a lot of time right now, and I just didn’t want you sitting there, watching for the car.”

Claire got it. Law enforcement, probably federal, _probably in the sheriff’s station_.

“Okay. Well, I’ll just order for the fam, then.”

“Get extra of the jumbo fried shrimp. Alex was really bummed last time.”

“Will do. Actually, I’ll just double the last order. We only had leftovers through breakfast.” Claire hung up.

Jody put her cell phone back in her pocket and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she pulled out the tape recorder she used to dictate her reports and got started on the affidavit.

Eighty-five minutes to go.

Claire 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, it's all about the food. Right? Nothing else happened in this chapter. Nothing at all! ;)
> 
> So. Anything anyone wants to say about the chapter? Or the art? Claire's face got a little skewed; not my best work. Still looks like her, though, I think. Do you agree?
> 
> How's the weather? Getting outside at all, or staying entirely inside, going stir-crazy, during the quarantine? 
> 
> Foot's finally starting to feel better, so the updates may start coming more quickly again, but don't hold me to that quite yet. And don't expect 3-4 chapters in a day! ;)
> 
> Please comment. Love you! <3 :D


	146. Changing Venue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas calls Amara regarding announcing the change in meeting location. Sam announces to Gabe that he wants them to take a trip inside his head. Dean lets Cas drive Baby, then feels guilty that he never has before.

Amara had just finished with her morning spa treatment when her cell phone rang. The Caller ID showed a number she didn’t recognize; she almost declined the call. At the last second, she decided she was bored and needed a distraction, and accepted it, instead.

“Hello, Amara. This is Castiel.”

“Ah! And how are you, nephew?”

“I’m well, thank you. However, the venue we had set for the meeting tomorrow is now unavailable. We have another location set, so I’m calling to let you know where to go instead.”

“I see. May I ask why the original venue is now unacceptable? Just out of curiosity, an alternate location is perfectly fine.”

“There is a federal investigation currently going on in Sioux Falls, with agents from at least two agencies wandering about town. Dean is believed to be dead, but if an FBI or Secret Service agent were to see and recognize him, he would likely be put in prison for the rest of his life, or shot dead on sight, depending on which agent saw him first. The feds believe him to be a domestic terrorist, wanted for the attempted assassination of former President Rooney, among several other crimes. Thus, Dean cannot go to Sioux Falls this weekend.”

“No, certainly not. You know that I am… fond of Dean, Castiel. I would not like to put him in danger, nor cause him such inconvenience when it can be as easily avoided as simply changing a meeting location. So, where will we be meeting, instead?”

“A friend of Dean’s is allowing us to borrow her family’s hunting cabin for the weekend. It’s in a forested area northwest of Stillwater, Minnesota. Are you still able to hone in on Dean’s location? Or will you need further directions?”

“Castiel, I could find Dean, or I could find his car, or I could find you, as easily as breathing. Even through heavy warding. I know where Dean and Sam live, Castiel. I simply choose to let them have their space. Again, I have no wish to endanger, nor inconvenience, Dean. Or Sam. Or you, for that matter. As I told Hannah, I’ve matured. Now, will the time of the meeting remain unchanged?”

“Yes. Only the location is different.”

“Excellent. Then I will see you tomorrow, nephew. I’m looking forward to it.” Amara ended the call.

She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. Deftly, without alerting either of them, she located Dean and Cas, riding in that car. She took note of their matching rings, and smiled softly. As she’d said, she was fond of Dean, and she truly was happy for the two of them. She also noted that Dean had a particularly strong light emanating from his soul. The strength of it, the brightness - that was new. She wondered if they knew what it meant. Certainly Castiel would have noticed it by now; it was too bright for him to have missed it. And the way it was pulsing just beneath Dean’s skin – surely it had flared at least once?

She retracted back into herself and drummed her fingers lightly on her thigh, thinking.

Maybe she wouldn’t end up as neutral as she had previously thought she’d be.

Amara 

***

“I think we should go in my head and talk to Lucifer and Michael.”

Gabriel looked askance at Sam. “Ah… no.”

“Okay. I’ll go without you, then. Wake me in time for dinner, please.” Sam turned to go to their bedroom, but Gabe’s gentle hand on his bicep stopped him.

“Sam. What’s this about, love?”

Sam sighed and dropped his head, then turned back toward Gabriel, and found himself in Gabe’s arms. Gabe just held on, and stroked Sam’s hair softly, and waited.

“I just keep thinking. What do they know, how could they be helping, why aren’t we talking with them more? They’re just sitting around in my head; they have to be bored. Michael gets… well, let’s just say, I know how Michael gets when he’s bored, and it isn’t good for anyone, okay? And you and Cas and Balth and Hannah – you’ll all be gone tomorrow, and what if, in their boredom, Lucifer and Michael…act up? I know Lucifer isn’t corrupted by the Mark anymore, and that’s great, and I know they’ve said that Michael is sane, and that they’re on our side. But I don’t _trust_ them, Gabe. And they’re _in my head_ – not like I can exactly escape them if they decide they want to poke at me. Now, maybe they’ve been leaving me alone because they mean well now, but maybe it’s just because they know you and Cas are around to protect me? What if….”

“What if you had a panic attack? Sam, it’s okay. They can’t get to you _unless you dream_. Did you really think I’d leave you here undefended with your REM cycle on? I was going to switch it off before I left in the morning, and I’m only going to be gone a couple of hours – long enough to put the warding in place, have the meeting, and clean up after. That’s it. And if you called, there are at least four angels here who would hear you; one of us would come immediately in an emergency, you know we would, even if we had to leave the meeting to do it. Shann can watch to make sure you don’t go outside, so Lucy can’t fool and trap you like he did before.

“But your idea of giving the two of them something to do, having them help, that’s not a bad idea, Sam. Lucifer was able to pull both you and my baked goods into his little pocket dimension, and he doesn’t even eat; maybe he could take research materials, and do some of the backlogged research, get that off your plate? No harm in asking.

“Now, I don’t mind going with you to see them if there’s a reason for it. And getting you out of having to do some of the stuff that’s been keeping you awake nights, that’s worth it, if they’ll agree to help. But not just running in there willy-nilly without a plan because you’re nervous about tomorrow, okay?”

Sam nodded. “Sorry. I just….”

“I know, kiddo. I know. We could bring someone additional down from upstairs to sit with you tomorrow, if you want. We could get more staff to help out around here in general. Hiring Shann worked out pretty well, huh? 

“And hey, if tomorrow goes well, Amara will get my brothers _out_ of your head, and then they’ll be _everyone’s_ problem again, not just yours.” Gabe grinned. “So. Still want to take a trip inside your own head? Or willing to forgo that?”

“Yeah, let’s leave it. I’m over it. Thanks, Gabe.”

Gabe 

***

Dean munched on his burger while Cas drove. Every now and then, Dean glanced over at his angel, who didn’t appear to be driving nervously – Cas was an experienced driver, no worries there – but did seem to still be in awe over the fact that he was being allowed to drive Baby.

Dean felt guilty, suddenly, as he realized: he’d let Sam drive her; Hell, he’d taught Jack how to drive in her; but he’d never before allowed Cas behind the wheel. He finished the last bite, then reached into the back seat for his duffel bag.

“Cas, d’ya mind if I work on my journal entry for a bit, while you drive? I don’t mean to ignore you, Angel, but I’d be kinda focused on something else for a bit, so if you want me to wait….”

“No, by all means, Dean, please go ahead.” Cas glanced over, smiling, then went back to keeping his eyes on the road.

Dean reached into his duffel and pulled out his notebook and pen. He had another dream to report, plus the events of the morning to chronicle, but they had a ways to go; he had time.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Amara thinks she knows what the new brightness of Dean's light means - will she tell THEM? Does she know what "the light is the key" means? Hmm.
> 
> Sammy's a little nervous about being all on his own. Given that two of the most powerful entities in Creation reside in his head, do you blame him? Even if they're not quite so powerful now as they once were, even Amara said she kept them around for the power. Let's hope Gabe is right that Sam is safe from them. Hmm.
> 
> Sorry the bit with Dean and Cas is kinda short - the next chapter will have a nice long journal entry, promise. :)
> 
> Comments? More art! Let me know what you think! Eeep! Love you all! :D


	147. Details, Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes his daily letter to himself, then a detailed journal entry regarding the latest dream about Alastair, looking for clues as to what his subconscious is trying to tell him.

It was a little difficult to write in the passenger seat, but Dean managed, leaning back against the car door, putting his feet on the bench seat, knees bent, propping the notebook against his thighs. Not terribly comfortable, and his handwriting wasn't the best, but it would do. He uncapped his pen and got started.

***

_Dear Dean,_

_It’s the end of October 2005. You’re 26 years old, and your father’s gone missing. You haven’t spoken with Sammy in two years, though you’ve kept track of him from a distance, without him knowing, and, of course, you know exactly where he lives, and how to break into his apartment in the middle of the night. You need his help to find John. He introduces you to his girl, Jess. He agrees to go with you for the weekend, but insists on being back in time for his law school interview on Monday._

_You don’t tell him, of course, but you’re so proud of him you could burst. Law school. God damn, that kid’s smart, and all the work you did making sure he got to school on time and did his homework, all the sacrifices you made, so that he could eat, and focus, and, as much as possible with the life John made you both live, be a normal kid – all worth it. Every bit of it. But you still need to find John, and last you knew, he was headed up the coast to a town called Jericho._

_So, the two of you go, and you don’t find John, but you do find a case. One it looks like John left for you to finish, though he’s left town. It’s a white woman, and Sammy figures out how to kill her. Then he insists on going back to school, even though John’s still in the wind. So, you drive him back, and you watch him go inside, then drive off. But you have this feeling you can’t shake – something’s not quite right – so you go back in time to see the flames in the bedroom window. You burst in the door, in time to save Sammy – but Jess is already dead, in flames, on the ceiling, just like Mom (it’s even November 2). Nothing to be done about her, she’s gone. You pull Sammy out, and he decides to forgo the interview. He comes back to hunting._

_You love that he’s with you, and you’re worried about John, who seems to have vanished. You know Jess’ death isn’t your doing, but you still feel horribly guilty. You pulled him away from her, and she died; now she’s gone and he’s with you. You know he’s still mourning her, but he won’t talk about it, and most days you don’t want to hear it anyway – hearing about how sad Sam is would just make your guilt worse._

_Months go by, with little to show for it. Every now and then, there’s a hint of John, but you keep losing his trail. It’s almost like he wants you not to find him. You turn 27 in January, but, as usual, your birthday passes unnoticed, as is your preference; you hate being made the center of attention. Never feels right to have too much love directed at you, does it?_

_In April, Sam tells you about his nightmares, and insists on going back to the house in Lawrence for the first time since the fire, which, it turns out, is haunted, by both a poltergeist, and the spirit of Mom. A few weeks later, you get electrocuted and almost die, but Sam takes you to a faith healer. Not realizing it’s really a rogue reaper, you get healed, but someone else dies in your place. Just another thing to feel guilty about._

_Sam turns 23 in May. Not long after that, Sam’s nightmares lead you to Michigan and Max Miller, one of Azazel’s Special Children – the first indication Sam has that he isn’t the only one who’s got odd powers awakening. Shortly after that, Sam gets kidnapped by the Benders, and it takes two days to find and rescue him._

_Shortly after that, the two of you go to Chicago for another case, and you finally meet up with John, who, amazingly, actually hugs you. He tells you both that he doesn’t want you hurt, and when Sam protests that he doesn’t have to worry about the two of you, he says, “Of course I do. I’m your father.” You haven’t seen John in months, not since you left for a hunt in New Orleans right before you went to Palo Alto to get Sam. Sam hasn’t seen him in years, not since the night they fought about Sam going to college, when the last thing John said to him was, “If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back,” yet here they are, hugging. It’s one of the few times in your life that you can recall John Winchester having a sober chick-flick moment, hugging both his sons and admitting to caring about both of you. Years later, you and Sam discover that, for each of you, it’s one of the best memories you have of the man, and he doesn’t even expressly state that he loves you._

_And doesn’t that just encapsulate your relationship with Dad? You would have done anything for him, been anything he wanted you to be, followed any order he gave you, but he goes months without so much as a word, disappears from view, admits to having ghosted you on purpose; then one hug each, and it’s the best memory you both have of the guy._

_I remember that evening so clearly. It’s one of the few that stand out, so Alastair didn’t bother to fuck with it later. Looking back now, I’m amazed at how easily I accepted the minimal affection he gave me, how happy I was to get any at all from him. Was it just the fact that he’d been missing for so long, just the relief of finding him, that made the crumbs he doled out in Chicago feel like so much at the time?_

_At 27, I believed my life was good. I see now that it was simply what I was conditioned to be willing to accept. Dean, eventually, you will discover that you deserve to be happy. Truly happy. And when that time comes, you won’t be willing to accept mere crumbs anymore._

_That sounds a little bitter, a little petty, but I see now how stand-offish Dad always was to me, so getting an actual hug? Being told that he didn’t want us to be hurt, and that of course he worried about us? It felt fucking amazing._

_But where was the concern all the times he got drunk and left it to me to raise Sammy? Where was the worry when he left us alone for weeks on end? Yup, I’m still angry, still conflicted._

_Dean, I have the whole loaf now, metaphorically speaking. My life now is good. So good. I’m happy. I’m in a healthy, committed relationship, a true partnership. Part of the reason why I’m angry now, writing this, is because my life now **is** so good, that I can compare and contrast with how it was then. _

_I think, Dean, that Dad actually did love both of you. I think he tried his best, but his best sometimes just wasn’t enough. So, I think you, then, and I, now, need to try to remember that he did try, and just let all of the other crap go. His neglect shaped me, but it didn’t break me._

_Just hang in there, kiddo. It takes a while, but the payoff is so worth it._

_Trust me._

_Dean_

***

**_ Friday afternoon _ **

_I dreamt of Alastair and Hell again. I want to record this a little more carefully, because if, as I suspect, this isn’t a message from some outside force, but rather just from my own subconscious, trying to process something, remembering and writing down as much as possible will be helpful not just to me, but to Mia. I feel it’s essential to figure out what it is my subconscious is trying to tell me, and sooner, rather than later. So, I’m going to try to be pretty detailed, here, Mia, just so you know._

_I was again walking down a long hallway of closed doors. I believe that it’s part of what Cas calls my “memory palace.” I felt at once like it was very familiar, and yet like I was utterly lost. I didn’t bother trying the doors to see if they would open, although I wasn’t sure why; I just felt like there was somewhere else I needed to be. The hallway came to an intersection, and I started to turn left, but then I stopped. And then I realized that this was **really** oddly familiar. I’d been here before – **recently**. I was sure of it. _

_I knew I’d taken this left turn many, many times. Left seemed comfortable. But **was** it? I remember wondering why I didn’t remember **ever** turning right, or going straight, and what would happen if I did? And then I did the same thing that I had done in the dream the night before – I deliberately turned right, and, realizing that I was suddenly walking more cautiously, huffed out a laugh. Nothing was going to happen, here, I told myself; this excessive caution was silly. Nevertheless, I started to choose my footing carefully, where before I’d been merely walking along. _

_And then, in the dream, I shook my head, realizing that this was **wrong** , somehow, dangerous. I paused, and half-turned to leave. Then I laughed at myself, and continued on my chosen path, but something in my head, some voice, was whispering caution, go back, leave this place, not safe, NOT SAFE, **DANGER**. _ _A door was open, so I walked carefully up to it, but somehow I couldn’t see beyond the doorway. I carefully inserted just my face in through the doorway – saw Hell – and tried to pull back. Too late._

 _I screamed as, just as in the prior night’s dream, two clouds of black smoke – vessel-less demons – seized me by the ears and dragged me all the way in from the hallway. I tried to call out for help, but one of the clouds wound around my head to silence and blinded me. I felt the smoke strapping me to the rack, locking me into place and gagging me tightly._ _The smoke cleared, and Alastair appeared in front of me, carrying his favorite scalpel. I knew it was utterly futile, but still desperately tried to shrink back, to struggle, to squirm; I couldn’t effect even the tiniest of movements._

_“Helllllo, Dean. I won’t be removing the gag, this time; I learn my lessons. Shame you never seem to. So, shall we begin?” Alastair stepped closer, and traced the edge of the knife lightly down from mu ear to the collar of my shirt. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt – I didn’t feel a thing. But then, as Alastair raised a finger smeared with my blood to sniff it, then lick it clean, I realized – the knife was simply too sharp, the first cut too shallow._

_Alastair sliced my shirt to ribbons with a few swift cuts, then ripped it from me. I couldn’t shrink back any further; I was all the way back against the rack, pressed tightly up against the wooden frame._

_“Oh, I almost forgot your ring, Dean. Seems to me I exhibited terrible manners, just terrible, last time you graced me with your presence here; I failed to congratulate you on your engagement. Not that it matters, Dean. You still belong to **me**. You always will.”_

_I shook my head violently._

_“No? I suppose you think you’re your own man? Or did you think that **Castiel** had some claim on you now? No. I have a **prior** claim, Dean. I own you, by your own admission. You **gave** yourself to me, willingly. When you got down off the rack, that was part of the deal, don’t you remember? By day, my apprentice torturer; by night, my willing love slave. There was no expiration date on our agreement, Dean. Castiel may have stolen you from me temporarily, and your brother may have killed me, but you are still my property. Castiel may have left a handprint on your shoulder (which, by the way, is faded away completely, now), and etched sigils onto your ribs that keep you from angel-sight, but I branded your **soul** , Dean. Your soul and your body belong to me, forever, whether I’m alive or not. And you gave me **yourself** , Dean.”_

_I continued to shake my head. Alastair just laughed, a low, vicious chuckle; it filled me with dread. Alastair began to carve shallow light patterns into my skin, the blood dripping from wounds across my torso, still utterly without pain, but I suspected that wouldn’t last._

_“I told you before, and it’s still true. There is no scenario where you end up in Heaven, Dean. Doesn’t matter if Castiel ends up in charge with the power to change the rules. Doesn’t matter a bit, because you deserve to go to Hell, Dean. You were condemned by your own hand. Long before you came downstairs, the first time you took a life, Dean – that was **murder**. Oh, you prettied it up, sure; you were killing **monsters**. They **had** to die. You were saving people. You had all **kinds** of justifications. So did your father – but he went down, too. And your father **didn’t** actually sell his soul for your life, Dean. He gave Azazel the **Colt** for your life. No, your father came downstairs because he was a **sinner**. He broke God’s laws. And even then, I still couldn’t get him to take the deal you did. _

_“You were just as much a sinner as your father before you ever made the deal for Sam’s life – that was why the crossroads demon with which you dealt was so hesitant, she knew she was getting tainted goods. She took the deal anyway because Azazel told her to – he wanted Sam on Earth for his little contest, knew Sam was a better vessel for Lucifer, was stronger than Jake ever thought of being. And, of course, Azazel wanted **you** down here as insurance – if Daddy couldn’t be persuaded to make the deal, maybe you could. And you **could** , Dean; you did. **You did!** And you did so **enjoy** torturing souls. Why, even after Castiel broke you out, you **still** tortured. Sometimes for the angels, sometimes for yourself. Admit it, Dean; you **love** to torture. You don’t feel **right** anymore unless you’re being tortured, or you’re torturing someone else – you were a sinner before you ever came down, your soul broken and polluted. _

_“You made a joke a while back, that maybe you should have been called ‘the Self-Righteous Man.’ It’s not really much of a joke, Dean. It’s more simple truth. Every time you’ve been distrustful of your brother, it wasn’t because of anything Sam did. It was because you knew that you would break under the same circumstances. And yet you are so Holier-Than-Thou to Sam. It’s a wonder he doesn’t curl his hand and snap your neck from across the room. Oh, yes – he **could**. Azazel didn’t give him the power, he just gave it a nudge, got it to wake up. Sam’s always been a rather powerful psychic, even without demon blood. The blood only ever gave him **confidence**. Confidence he lacked because of you and John, constantly harping on him.”_

_Alastair snapped his fingers and I was flipped around to face the rack, and my jeans and boxers were cut away as well, then Alastair snapped away the boots and socks, and I was naked, bound face down to the rack._

_I suddenly realized that this was a dream, and remembered the last dream, just the night before. I remembered calling for Cas, but Cas not hearing, despite being in the same room, because **there was no real threat**. Alastair himself had admitted that he was dead. He wasn’t even a ‘memory with intent’, like Lucifer and Michael in Sam’s head – he was simply a figment of my imagination, part of my subconscious. In the dream, I thought, this is just shit I need to process, need to get past, in order to be healthy. I realized that, like the time that Gabriel sent me and Sam to TV Land, **the only way out was through**. I decided I **would** make it out, and once I did, this would be **over**._

_So, I stopped squirming, trying futilely to press myself into the wooden rack. There was no point to it, and it just didn’t matter anyway. Nothing Alastair did would last, nor would any of it be new, because this was just a memory, combined with my own imagination – nothing more, and I could relax. B_ _ut then Alastair stepped up behind me, gripped the cheeks of my ass with each hand, and spread me apart – and thoughts of relaxation dissolved back into terror as Alastair’s cock punched viciously into me, dry. The physical pain of being so roughly used, with no prep at all – the mental anguish of being taken at all, by anyone but Cas – even in just a dream – made me scream. The gag made the scream soundless, but Alastair heard it, nevertheless, and laughed._

_“Yes, Dean, pet, scream all you like. But I’m only getting started. And when I’m through, you’ll remember your place, and be happy to serve in it once again – at my side by day, and at my feet by night.”_

_And then I woke up, just sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. I looked around, recognized our bed, the room I share with Cas, saw that Cas was asleep next to me, and I relaxed. I remember thinking, “Just another damn dream. I’m fine. Cas got me out, I’ve been free of Hell and Alastair for over a decade. Sammy killed Alastair; he’s dead – even he says so. It was just a dream. I’m okay.”_

_But I was afraid of going back to sleep. If I had to go through this dream, get past these memories, work through this part of my subconscious, in order to heal, it meant going back to Hell, at least in my head, and I’d already done that twice in two sleep cycles, one Wednesday night into early Thursday morning, one Thursday night into early Friday morning._ _And, when I moved cautiously to the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb Cas – my ass hurt from Alastair’s rape, because that's what that was, no denying it._

 _I slid out of bed, and went to the door; I glanced back at Cas, who was still sound asleep. I figured that there was still no real threat, because Cas would never sleep through a real threat to me, so I headed to the bathroom._ _Once there, I brushed my teeth and used the toilet, then pulled out a towel for a shower. I pulled my pj shirt up and over my head, and gasped in pain. I looked in the mirror – and saw dozens of healing, tiny, shallow cuts, all over my torso, from neck to navel._

_I turned on the water for the shower, and waited for it to get hot. I realized I was going to have to talk to Cas about these dreams. I’d been hoping I could wait and just speak to you, Mia, about them, but if I was going to be in real danger from my own subconscious, that wasn’t something that could wait, not even for just a few days until my next appointment, and either Cas would have to shut off my REM cycle temporarily, as he’d done for Sam, or go with me when I went through my memory palace in my dreams, to keep me away from that right-hand hallway, and out of that damned room._

_So, Mia, why did I keep thinking it’s okay to turn right at that hallway intersection? Why did I keep wanting to do so? If I just turned left, it wouldn’t be an issue – I wouldn’t get to that door, wouldn’t feel so curious about what was going on inside that open doorway that I can’t see through. And why is there an intersection at all? What’s up ahead, if I chose to just go straight? Why turn at all? From what Cas told me about Sam’s memory palace, it was all just one long corridor, except where an area had been carved out for Sam’s memories of The Cage – that was the only intersection. Do all memories of Hell rate an intersection? Did that mean going straight, or to the left – one or the other – would get me to my memories of Purgatory, and Benny? It would be good to see Benny again. Though not necessarily to have to go back to Purgatory to do it._

_I realized that my_ _own subconscious couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, but it could reveal things that I’d hidden from myself, things I’d forgotten or repressed. That’s when I thought that I better write out as much detail as possible – what I did, what I saw, what Alastair said, and then go back through it, and try to figure out what my dream was trying to tell me to remember, figuring that if I remembered enough, maybe I wouldn’t have to go through any more of it._ _After the shower, I got dressed quickly, then headed for the kitchen, poured two mugs of coffee, doctored one for Cas, and headed back to our room. Cas was still asleep – bringing him coffee was just self-preservation. We had a bit of cuddle time, then Cas asked what was wrong, so I told him about both dreams, and showed him all the little cuts. He agreed that they might be a physical manifestation of my subconscious mind, but a dangerous one._

_Shortly after that, I was packing up to get on the road, and Cas came in with his own luggage for our weekend trip. I had assumed he was going to fly up with the other angels on Saturday morning, so it surprised me when he announced that he was riding with me. He said it was because he likes spending time with me, but I think it was really concern. Cas doesn’t like it when I’m troubled or in danger, especially when he can’t fix it._

_We got out on the road, and then Sam got a call from a sheriff friend of ours, Jody – I’ve told you about her before, Mia – up in Sioux Falls. She wanted to let us know that it wasn’t a good weekend for me to be there, and to ask us not to come. Gabe flew after us to tell us, so I pulled over. Then I thought of using Donna’s hunting cabin in Minnesota for the meeting, so I made a quick call to Donna – I’ve told you about her, too – and made those arrangements while Gabe was still there, so he could fly back to Sam, Balthazar, and Hannah, and let them know the change in plans._

_We got back on the road, and around noon, I suggested stopping for lunch. Cas, of course, wasn’t hungry, so then I suggested that I just run in and get something to go, and he could drive while I ate. He gasped at the idea that I would let him drive Baby. I pointed out that she was going to be half his, and of course, he hadn’t realized that marrying me might have some tangible benefit – it’s not like Cas cares anything for money, after all. But he was so happy, and it felt good to have something tangible that I could give to Cas, something valuable, that means as much to Cas as it does to me. A last name, and half my car. I told him that “I don’t have much, Cas, but what I have is yours to share.” I mean it. There isn’t anything I have that I wouldn’t willingly give to Cas. But then, I’ve never had a problem with giving to others. It’s taking things for myself that’s always been my problem._

_Cas called Amara to let her know about the change in location from the diner’s parking lot while I waited for my food, and I came back out while he was still on the call. We got back on the road with him driving as soon as he hung up. I ate while Cas drove, every now and then looking over at him, and realizing that I’d never let Cas behind the wheel before, and I had no idea why not. Cas is a competent, experienced driver. I’ve let Sam drive her. Hell, I taught Jack **how** to drive in her. But I had never let Cas, and I feel so badly about it, because, if how his face looked was any indication, he’s wanted to for a really long time, and never expected to get the chance. One more thing that I have to make up to Cas. One more reason to feel guilty. _

_Like I need any more of those._

***

Dean put the pen and notebook away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is finally reconciling himself to the fact that, while John loved him in his way, his way wasn't what Dean needed. Dean needed much more than the crumbs he got from John, he needs the "whole loaf," and he gets that with Cas. :) 
> 
> So, he's happy, but he's still processing something. He's trying so hard to figure it out. He's working so hard at getting better, and he's come a really long way. I'm so proud - aren't you? ;)
> 
> So, comments? Sorry, no art this chapter; more to come! 
> 
> Hope you're all doing well in self-isolation. PLEASE KEEP STAYING AT HOME! Read/write/post more! ;) *distance hugs*


	148. Well, No Wonder...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean suggests a stop for dinner, and asks Cas to read today's letter to himself and journal entry. Donna's attorney suggests a plan for responding to Doug's motion. Dean explains to Cas his experience in Hell.

By 5:00, Dean was looking for a place to stop for dinner. He saw a sign for a likely place, and pointed it out. “Hey, Cas, let’s swing in there. I’m getting hungry again, you could use a break… and I could use an objective eye on my journal entry. I’d like you to read about my dream, get your perspective on what you think my subconscious is trying to say.”

Castiel glanced over at him. “Of course, Dean, if you want me to read your journal entry, I would be happy to.” He took the next exit, as the sign had indicated, and found the restaurant with little difficulty.

“So, how’d you like driving Baby?” Dean asked, as they walked from the car to the diner’s door, Dean carrying the notebook in with him.

“She’s a lovely machine, Dean. You know I’ve always admired her. Thank you.” Cas smiled.

Dean slid into one side of a booth; Cas sat across. “I owe you an apology, Angel.”

“For what, Dean?” Castiel looked genuinely puzzled.

“I honestly don’t know why I’ve never let you drive her before. I think I’m guilty of doing what I accuse my dad of, in today’s letter to myself – giving the people I love crumbs of affection and expecting them to be satisfied with them. Looking back, I can see now how much John’s doing that to me hurt me, and I can see that I’ve done the same to you, and hurt you doing it, and I hate that I’ve done that to you, Cas. So, I apologize.”

“Dean. I appreciate the apology, but it’s not necessary. You’ve always given everything you safely could. If you held back anything, I knew it was because you were acting out of self-preservation, and honestly, I was glad to see it.” Cas took Dean’s hand, and gently squeezed.

Dean scowled, but Cas knew it wasn’t directed at him. Dean opened the notebook to the correct page, and slid it over to Cas’ side of the table. “You have an open invitation, Cas, to read any or all of my journal at any time; but for right now, I’d like you to start with what I wrote in the car this afternoon, which is this page and the next two.”

“All right, Dean. I’ll get started. When the waitress comes over, just order me a cup of coffee, will you?”

“Sure.” Dean signaled to the waitress with a smile, as Cas began to read.

“What can I get for you?” the waitress asked.

“He’ll have a cup of coffee, largest mug you got. I’ll have the same to drink, plus a large glass of ice water. I’d also like a bacon double cheeseburger, extra bacon, side of fries. And what do you have for pie?”

“We have apple, cherry, pecan, and coconut cream. The apple, cherry, and pecan you can get ala mode for a buck extra; otherwise, they all come with whipped cream unless you say to leave it off.”

“I would like one slice of the apple and one of the pecan, both warmed and ala mode. And you can bring that out whenever, doesn’t have to be at the end of the meal, just whenever’s easiest for you.” Dean flashed her a brilliant smile, and she nodded, smiling back.

“I’ll bring the drinks out and put that in for you.” She darted off toward the kitchen.

Dean relaxed in the booth while Cas focused on the page before him.

***

Donna’s cell phone rang with a call from her attorney. “Hey, so, what’d Jody find out? She called earlier but didn’t have time to tell me much.”

The attorney filled Donna in on the investigation, then continued to explain, “So, here’s what we tell the judge. First, under the plain terms of the statute that his own motion cites as its authority, Doug’s out of time to file this motion at all, since your divorce has been final for over a year.

“Second, even if the motion had been timely, you didn’t have this money during the marriage or at the time the divorce was entered, you only just received it – again, more than year after the divorce was final.

“Third, under Minnesota law, a gift given to one spouse but not the other is non-marital property; Claire gave this money to _you_ , Donna, not to you and Doug as a married couple, and I assume Claire will provide an affidavit saying so – so the gift isn’t marital property, and Doug wouldn’t have been entitled to any of it, even if you _had_ received it during the marriage – which, again, you didn’t.

“Fourth, Doug only found out about the gift because his attorney works for a law firm that has been illegally collecting private monetary and banking transaction information, in violation of federal law, in an apparent conspiracy with other firms in other states. Were it not for those illegal actions on the part of those law firms, the motion could not have been filed when it was, if at all.

“Finally, service of Doug’s motion was improper, because they mailed it to you, despite knowing that you were represented by counsel, and neglected to serve a copy on me, and didn’t give either of us a copy of any brief that may have been filed in support of the motion, only the bare motion itself. Contacting a represented party without going through their counsel, when you know they have an attorney, is an ethical violation on the part of Doug’s attorney, and, technically, even if the motion had any merit, your time to respond to it hasn’t even begun to run, because the service was ineffective.

“That’s five independent reasons for the judge to deny Doug’s motion. Assuming that Jody and Claire get their affidavits back to me on Monday, we should be able to get this filed by Tuesday.”

“Then what?” Donna asked.

“Well, then the judge has the discretion to do a couple of different things. He could decide to deny Doug’s motion without hearing, given that it’s untimely, based on illegal information, its service was improper, and it has no merit. I’ll argue that would be what he ought to do, but it’s his decision; he could decide that a hearing is still necessary, and schedule one. If he does, I’m betting it would be pretty much for the sole purpose of tearing Doug’s attorney a new one, but I could be wrong.

“Look, Donna, we have a very strong case here, all right? Please, don’t stress about this, okay? We’ll get it sorted.”

“Okay, I’m trustin’ ya. It all sounds good. Do you need anything else from me?”

“I’ll need that envelope. I need to show that the postmark is dated from before Claire even handed you the envelope that had the check in it, so I’ll need an affidavit from you, as well. I can draft it, then you can review it and make any changes you think it needs, and then we’ll have you sign it in front of a notary. We have several notaries on staff, so you don’t have to worry about finding one at a bank. We’ll take care of it. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks so much, you made me feel so much better. This just kinda came outta left field, y’know?”

“Absolutely, but we’ll handle it. He has no case, Donna. Okay, I need to get going, but I’ll talk to you about your affidavit on Monday. Have a good weekend.”

“Yeah, you too! Bye.” Donna ended the call, and sighed.

_Doug may not have a case, but telling me not to worry about it is like telling a kid with a loose tooth not to wiggle it. Ain’t gonna happen._

Donna 

***

“Dean. When you told me about the dream, earlier, you told me about the cutting that Alastair did on you, and you showed me the wounds on your chest. But you didn’t mention that in your dream, he’d raped you, and that when you woke up, you could feel that, as well.” Cas looked concerned.

“Didn’t I? I wasn’t intending to hide it from you. I didn’t realize I hadn’t said, Cas.”

“We’ve talked before about your time in Hell, but we haven’t gone very in-depth about the types of torture you endured; I didn’t really want to know, didn’t think I needed to know, and I didn’t want to bring up what obviously had to be a painful – in more ways than one – experience for you, so I never asked. And you never mentioned. So now I have to ask, Dean. Did Alastair rape you in Hell? Did you become his sex slave? Is what he said in the dream true?” Cas asked. “Let me be clear, my heart – I’m not asking out of prurient interest, nor because it will in any way change how I feel about you; no matter what you tell me, Dean, I love you, always. But if your subconscious is trying to tell you something, I need to know if what it’s saying is really true, and relevant.”

“Yeah, no, I understand, Cas. I’m not taking what you’re saying badly. I asked you to read it and give me perspective, and you can’t do that without all the facts. So, yeah, it’s not my favorite subject, and I don’t enjoy talking about it, but you need to know. Yes. Yes, to all of it, to whatever you’re asking, thinking, imagining.” Dean sighed. He sat up in the booth, and stared down at the table as he spoke.

Dean Dean and Cas 

“Cas, you have to understand, it’s a whole… program. It’s never _just_ whipping, or _just_ cutting – they do it _all_. It might start out small, with degrading, demeaning comments designed to make you feel small, unworthy of affection, until you’re so desperate for a soft touch that when one comes, you’d promise anything, _do anything_ , to feel it again. It’s leaving you in the pitch-black darkness of the Pit without so much as a flicker of a flame to let you see – total sensory deprivation, until you’d do anything, say _anything_ , to have your sight back.

“It’s whipping, and cutting, and suspending you from hooks over flames until your flesh bubbles and peels off with the scent of roasting meat. It’s flaying your skin and your muscles from your bones, without the respite of unconsciousness or death, because _you’re already dead_.

“And it’s putting you back together, but maybe you don’t get put back quite right – your head on backward, or your arms bent wrong, or your knees facing outward instead of forward. And, once in a while, it’s a total cessation of all the torment, and a succubus comes and gives you pleasure – until even _that_ tips over and becomes pain, your every nerve stimulated past the point of sanity.

“They did it all to me, Cas. Everything. Beatings, cuttings, rape, sex, whipping, suspension, burning – you name it, they did it. All day, every day, for thirty years. And every day, Alastair would come to me at the end of the day. And he’d stand over whatever was left of me, and he’d laugh. Or he’d act like he was sorrowful and pitying, but he was really mocking me. But however he acted, it all had the same effect – it pissed me off, and it gave me resolve. I was not going to give in to that asshole. I was not going to give him what he wanted, I was not going to take his deal. I’d refuse and he’d rebuild me, and they’d start again.

“And then… the last day of the last year of the first thirty years I was in Hell… he came to me, and he didn’t laugh, and he wasn’t mockingly pitying, he just seemed… tired, maybe? And somehow kind. Like he was as sick of it all as I was, and maybe we could just hang out together for a minute in recognition of the fact that we were both at the mercy of forces beyond our power to understand. That day, he was something he’d never been before – sympathetic, and truly… kind. Like he was just too tired to keep being mean. It was the first real, true kindness I’d experienced since going downstairs. And that, I couldn’t resist.

“I was kneeling on the floor, not because he’d demanded it of me; I’d just slid down to my knees once he’d taken me off the rack, too tired to stand any more. And he put his hand down and cupped my cheek gently, so softly, and he smiled sweetly at me, and he offered to help me up, and I couldn’t resist it and nuzzled his hand with my nose. And it surprised him, and he huffed out a soft laugh, and he leaned down and got his hands under my arms and hoisted me up, and he got me into a comfortable chair and brought me a soft blanket.

“He said that we needed to talk. He made the offer, again, and said that we could go forward as we’d begun that evening – with gentleness and kindness between us, if that’s what I wanted. I just had to agree to his terms. I could stay off the rack, if I put others on it. I could avoid being tortured if I agreed to torture others. And I could avoid being raped by other demons, succubi, etc., if I would agree to be his. By day, his apprentice torturer, by night, his sex slave. He would be gentle, so long as I did everything he asked of me, without question, without resistance. If I failed, I would be punished – but not with rape, and not by anyone but him.

“I couldn’t take any more pain, Cas. That night, he healed me, and then he used me, but still with that gentle sweetness – inexorable, demanding, but soft. That gentle kindness and cessation of pain was so seductive. I just…. I gave up. I gave in. And by morning, I had agreed to his terms. And so, rather than being put back on the rack myself, I was given my choice of implements, and a choice of souls to torment. He watched everything I did, demanded that I be as vicious with them as he and the other demons had been with me – and I complied. I tore into them. I spilled not just a few drops, but buckets of blood that day, Cas. And in so doing, I unknowingly broke the First Seal.

“Of course, Alastair lied. He was a _demon_ ; demons lie. After that first night, and that first day, he didn’t keep up the gentle sweetness. It had been an _act_ , just like the mocking pity. It just hadn’t been an act I could immediately see through. He’d promised punishment if I failed, so he would set me up to fail him. I might as well have stayed on the rack; by day, I was a torturer; by night, I went back to being one of the tortured – with Alastair as my only inquisitor. He did keep the others off my back, but then, he’d set them on me in the first place.

“But I tried, Cas. I tried to be good. I wanted a return to that sweetness, I wanted him to go back to being gentle, as he’d been that night. I tried so hard to be what he wanted, so he would. But of course, he never did. I failed, over and over and over, until he even started making fun of me for trying, for wanting him to be anything other than vicious to me. And for the last ten years I was downstairs, he made me believe that I deserved to be there. I couldn’t please him. It didn’t matter what I did. I wasn’t enough, wasn’t good enough, never had been.

“And, as you discovered later, he was messing with my memories throughout the entire time I was down there, making me believe that my father had abused me in many of the same ways that Alastair did – hitting, slapping, etc. Cas, I have memories of John abusing me sexually, of John pimping me out – and I don’t believe they’re real, not anymore, not now that I know Alastair was creating false memories; but, at this point, _they might as well be real_ , don’t you see?

“Cas, I’m not the same person I was when I went to Hell. _I’m the person that Alastair created_. You did your best to rebuild me, but even you couldn’t undo everything he did. And I _chose_ to become that person, Cas. I _chose_ to be a vicious torturer. I _chose_ to be Alastair’s sex slave. I _chose_ to debase myself, for what I thought then would be eternity, _for a single night of his kindness_. I started the Apocalypse, because a demon acted tenderly toward me _once_.

“The truth, Cas, is that I am not, in fact, a good person. I try to do good things, and I try to do what’s right, but it’s not because I’m a good person. It’s because I’m _terrified_ , Cas. I’m terrified that I will die, and I will go back downstairs, and even though Alastair is in the Empty now, there will be someone who’ll take his place, and that I’ll go right back to suffering like I did before.

“ _And I’ll deserve it_. Every fucking minute of it.”

Dean 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess we know where Dean's feelings of low self-esteem and guilt come from, hmm? No wonder he's been having nightmares; I'm just unclear on why he hasn't been having them every night for the past 11 years.... Coming soon: Cas' take on what Dean told him.
> 
> So, Donna's attorney seems to be on the ball, eh? ;)
> 
> More art! I'm not convinced I like how Cas' face came out - Misha's face is hard to draw, man! So pretty, though! *sigh* :)
> 
> Comments!!!!!! Please, I need the social interaction! I'm going STIR CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me OUT! Okay, no, don't, I don't want to get sick. But these four walls need ... something. I'd paint, if I could buy paint. ;)
> 
> Love you all! Hope you're all well, wherever you are! *distance hugs* NOW TALK TO ME! ;D


	149. Evidence of Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gives Dean an argument he can accept.

Castiel’s heart sank as he listened. He’d suspected much of what Dean had told him, but hadn’t realized that Dean had been made to feel complicit. “Dean, have you discussed your time in Hell with Mia? I mean beyond just the basic relating of the fact that you were there, the details of it, that you just told me?”

“No, Cas. I… I never told anyone what I just told you. To be fair, no one’s ever asked for specifics before. I know Sam would’ve listened, to anything I wanted to share, but I never wanted him to have to carry that burden. I… Cas, I couldn’t tell my brother that I had begged to be used like that. And I did, Cas. I begged for it. He made me beg nearly every night after I gave in. I think Sam could have excused begging not to be tortured. But I begged to _be_ tortured, to be used, to be punished for having failed my master. And I don’t think Sam would have understood. I was… I am… ashamed of it, Cas.”

Cas reached across the table and took Dean’s hand, holding it gently. Dean squeezed, and held on tightly, as if Cas’ hand was a lifeline to safety and security. “Dean. You had no choice.” Dean started to protest, but Cas cut him off. “No. Dean. _You had no choice_. You had the _illusion_ of choice – to continue, on the one hand, to be tortured in the way you began your time in Hell, or, on the other, to be tortured in a completely different way, one in which you had a hope of occasional respite, which, from what you’ve said, never actually came. In some ways, that’s a _worse_ kind of torture, having that hope. And I don’t blame you, Dean. We all crave comfort, and love, and a little kindness now and then. After thirty years of starving for a gentle touch, you got one, and it seemed like a feast. You wanted more; that’s only natural. And Alastair _knew_ exactly what your reaction to that gentle touch would be, Dean, make no mistake. He played you. He lied. You said it yourself - _he was a demon; demons lie_. You had no choice. _None_. Not really.”

Dean shook his head. He continued to hold Castiel’s hand, but avoided his gaze, keeping his eyes down and on the table between them. “No, Cas. You’re forgetting. That’s not all that I agreed to. If all I had done was agree to be Alastair’s sex slave, his pet to torture, I’d agree with you that I was blameless. But I also agreed to torture others. I did torture others. And I enjoyed it, Cas. I was good at it. Every now and then, there’d be a quiet moment when I had time to think and I’d realize anew what I was doing, and I’d regret it, be sorry for it, for them. But Cas, those moments were few and far between. Maybe Alastair screwed with my wiring, or maybe I was always messed up – but I came out of Hell hardwired as a sadist, Cas.

“I don’t engage in it for fun, not on purpose, or to get off; but I can’t deny, Cas, I’ve tortured people, demons – hell, I tortured Alastair before Sam killed him – and I still enjoy it. And agreeing to torture others so I could get down off the rack – that was a choice, a real choice, and I made it. Sam says I’m blameless because I was under duress, but I can’t agree. _**I had no right to torture other souls**_ _._ No matter how much relief it gave me to be off the rack, I had no right to torture others in order to get down off of it. _That was not a deal that I had any right to make._

 _Moreover_ , I wasn’t under duress once I was out of Hell, and I _still_ , even now, make the choice to torture for information at times, even when there are other ways to get it. The other ways might take more time – there’s always a justification, an excuse, for the choice; but it is the choice I make, Cas. And yes, I feel guilty for it – later – but during? There’s nothing like it, Cas. The power, the rush. It’s addicting. It… it scares me how much I like it.

“You know, Anna tried to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, too. She said that it wasn’t my fault that I had tortured other souls in Hell. She told me to forgive myself. That was a long time ago. If nothing else, I’m consistent.” The ghost of a smile crossed Dean’s face briefly, then passed on, as if Dean had eaten something salty with an iron fork _._

The waitress came over then, with their check. “Would you like a refill on your coffee, gentlemen?”

“No, ma’am, we’re good, thanks.” Dean smiled wanly at her as he took the check. He left a generous tip; she’d given good service, but sensed that their conversation might be heavy, so she hadn’t hovered or been intrusive. They got up to leave, Cas carrying Dean’s notebook as they walked out to the Impala.

Once in the car, Dean again back in the driver’s seat now, Cas looked over at Dean. “You _were_ under duress, Dean. Your choices were illusory, at best. But you know the best way to tell that you were blameless in the torture that you engaged in when in Hell? The breaking of the First Seal. The requirement for the Seal to break was that a _righteous_ man had to spill blood in Hell. The definition of righteous is “morally right or justifiable; virtuous.” Thus, by definition, you cannot have been both righteous and blameworthy at the same time, Dean. Yes, its breaking was bad for the world and it allowed the start of the Apocalypse – but if you hadn’t been righteous when you spilled blood in Hell, the Seal would never have broken. The Seal did break. Ergo, you were not guilty. Your actions were virtuous.”

Dean stared at the steering wheel blankly, trying to process Cas’ words. There it was – the evidence of what everyone had been telling him for the past eleven years, for which he’d blindly sought without ever really believing he’d find it. Cas was right. Breaking the First Seal had required that he be righteous when he shed blood in Hell. Had he been to blame for what he’d done, he would not have been righteous. He’d shed blood in Hell only as a torturer, and, yet, the Seal had broken. Ergo, _he was not to blame_. The logic was sound. He couldn’t find an argument against the conclusion – except for his own feelings of guilt and shame.

Dean turned to Cas. “I get what you’re saying, and I agree that the logic holds up, but then … why do I still feel so guilty?”

“Because you _are_ a righteous man. Your actions were virtuous, but you still regret what you had to do, even though you had no choice but to do it. Even though you bear no actual blame, your regret over the consequences of your actions leaves you feeling ashamed.

“And Dean – that means you _are_ a good person. A _bad_ person wouldn’t feel guilty. A _bad_ person would have shrugged it off immediately. _You’ve_ carried the burden of regret and guilt _for eleven years_ , my heart. It’s time to let it go, Dean.”

Cas watched Dean’s face, and saw the second Dean did, in fact, start to let go of the guilt and shame that had burdened him for so long – as again, the light in his soul began to flare. The glow was so strong, so bright, the Cas couldn’t understand how the nearly 20 humans nearby in the parking lot didn’t notice it. And it was sustained, growing slowly stronger, rather than fading out or dimming quickly, as the recent flares had done. “Dean? Can you see….”

“The light? Yeah. Um, actually, yeah, I can, Cas. Is that…?”

“Your soul? No, but it’s coming _from_ your soul. What exactly do you see, my heart?”

“It’s like a glow beneath my skin, like… like I was out in the sun a little too long, and now I’ll have a good sunburn; just a dim but constant glow. It’s noticeable, if you’re looking for it, but otherwise, to most people, I’m sure it’s not obvious at all. Why? What do _you_ see?”

“To me, it’s so bright it’s almost blinding, Dean. I’m almost afraid to look directly at you, it’s like looking directly into the sun. In my true form, I could do it, but while in my vessel, I could burn out the retinas, just like any human.”

“Wouldn’t your grace heal it?”

“Well, nerve regeneration is difficult even for us. If you burn out your optic nerves by staring at the sun, it’s a good bet that an angel could eventually heal you, but it would take some time, and most angels would lose patience and take off before it was done. Healing my own vessel’s eyes would probably take a good week, if I burned them out completely. I’d still be able to see, but it wouldn’t be through my vessel’s eyes, it’d be through my grace, so everything would be odd colors and hazy.

“At any rate, Dean, this is simply more proof of the goodness of your soul. I didn’t need it, but you did. Trust me, a bad person’s soul wouldn’t light up like this.

“Can you control it? Try. Try thinking about it and consciously ask it to dim a bit.”

Dean concentrated, and soon he could no longer see the glow. “How’s that, Cas?”

“It’s better, I can look directly at you, now. Still bright to me, though. How does it look to you, my heart?”

“I can’t see it at all, now. So. I guess you were right about it flaring when I’m thinking positive.”

“Yes. So, I take it that what I said helped you?”

“Yeah, Cas. It did. It really did. Thank you, Angel.”

“You’re very welcome, Dean.”

Gabriel appeared in the back seat suddenly. “Hey, guys, you gotta find a way to keep Dean’s light under wraps outside the Bunker. Without the warding, you’re a sitting duck, Dean-o.”

“You could see it all the way back in Kansas?” Dean asked, astonished.

“Kiddo, you got a little mini-sun in your soul, and it is blazing brightly. I could tell the minute it flared, and I could tell the second you got it better under control, but you need to dim it way down, if you can. I’ll leave you two alone, just wanted to give you the heads up that your light, while very pretty, is dangerous. Bye.” Gabe vanished again.

Dean looked at Cas, a question in his eyes. Cas nodded. “Much as I love to see your light, Dean, it would be wise to hide it, for now. Keep asking it to dim, like before, until I tell you to stop.”

Dean nodded, and concentrated again. Cas watched the light’s brightness diminish until it was contained by Dean’s skin, even to angel sight. “Okay. That’s good.”

Dean took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Cas. What is this light the key to? _A mini-sun?_ What the hell, man?”

“I wish I knew, Dean. If I did, I’d tell you, but at best, I have… suspicions, that I’m not ready to share, that you’re probably not ready to hear. And I could be wrong, so I’d rather not hazard a guess, yet. Fair?”

Dean nodded, watching Cas’ face. “I trust you, Cas. Just… as soon as you know something solid, all right?”

“Of course, Dean.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MUCH. PROGRESS! The next session with Mia should be a doozy. ;)
> 
> Sorry, no art this chapter, but there will be some in the next!
> 
> Comments, please? :)


	150. A Little Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas stop at Donna's for the cabin key.

Dean pulled the Impala in to Donna’s driveway and parked. He reached over and gave Cas’ arm a little shake, as Cas had been “resting his eyes” for roughly the last hour of their drive. “Hey, Angel, we’re here.”

Cas startled, and blurted out, “Merry Christmas!” He blinked a few times, noticed Dean smirking, and shoved Dean’s arm weakly. “Shut up.”

Dean grinned. “C’mon, Cas, I want you to meet Donna; I don’t think you’ve met her before, have you?”

Cas shook his head. “No, I haven’t. You and Sam have talked about her many times, but I have not met her.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the house; Dean knocked on the screen door. The inner door opened, and Donna grinned.

“You’re here! Come in, come in! Oh, Dean! It’s so good to see ya! Is this… is this the famous Castiel, finally?” Donna gave Dean a hug, then turned to Cas.

Donna and Dean 

“Donna.” Dean grinned. “Let me introduce you. This is _my fiancé_ , Castiel.” He waggled his hand at her, showing off his ring.

“Hello, Donna.” Cas smiled a bit shyly, his head drooping down a bit, though his eyes were on hers.

Donna squealed. “Ooh! I wanna hear the whole proposal story, Dean! But first things first, Castiel, it’s so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” Donna hugged Castiel, and he blushed faintly as he hugged her back.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you, as well.”

“Oh! Does Claire know that you two are…?”

Dean winced a little. “No. We were going to tell her this weekend – we were supposed to be in Sioux Falls, but Jody called and warned us off, something about some big federal investigation going on there, it wasn’t safe for me to be around.”

“Oh! Dean, I’m so sorry! That’s my fault. Well, no, actually, it’s _Doug’s_ fault, but it’s because of me….” Donna got flustered.

“Donna, whoa, slow down. What’s a federal investigation in South Dakota got to do with you?”

Donna took a deep breath. “C’mon, let’s sit down, and I’ll tell you. You boys ate dinner on the way here, right? Because I can feed you, if you’re hungry? Something to drink? Anything? Castiel, a cup of tea?”

Dean and Cas declined refreshments, sitting down in the living room. Donna hovered for a minute like she thought they might change their minds, then sat down herself.

“Okay, so, did Sam mention that I spoke with him a few days back about my divorce case?”

“Yeah, Donna, he mentioned it, but I don’t think I got all the details of it from him,” Dean told her.

“Okay. Well, my divorce from Doug was final just over a year ago – well, just over thirteen months ago, now – but I got home one night after working late, and found court papers in my mailbox. He filed a motion with the court to reopen the property settlement, saying that I had committed fraud on the court by not revealing the existence of certain assets totaling over seven hundred thousand dollars. At first, I had no idea what he was talking about, but then I realized – he was after Claire’s gift to me. Did you know that she gave me seven hundred fifty thousand dollars?”

“Yeah, Donna, she gave the same amount to me, and to Cas, and a million to Sam, because he’d helped her file the insurance claim in the first place. Go on,” Dean said.

“Okay. I couldn’t figure out how Doug or his attorney would know about the gift. I’d just gotten it from Claire on Saturday, and deposited it at my bank on Monday, and yet on Tuesday, there was already a motion in the mail. It didn’t make sense. So, I spoke with my attorney, and we agreed that I would ask Jody to poke around a little on the Sioux Falls end of things. Jody thought maybe it was someone at their bank, and she went in and asked questions, and it turned out, it was. Apparently, a whole bunch of law firms in multiple states somehow convinced Jody’s bank, and who even knows how many others, that when a customer made a transaction over ten thousand dollars, not only did they have to notify the IRS and FDIC by email, they had to call one of the law firms, too, on the pretense that the firm was ‘outside counsel’ to a federal agency – when in fact, it wasn’t. Apparently, it violates all kinds of banking privacy laws and such, so Jody had to call in the feds – FBI, Secret Service, DOJ – and while they’re keeping her informed and allowing her to provide me and my attorney with an affidavit, they basically took over. From what Jody said, I guess they were making a right nuisance of themselves all over town. So, yeah, Dean, good idea not to head there right now.”

“Yeah. Well, Donna, none of that is your fault, sweetheart. So, no worries, okay? Now, is it still okay for us to use the cabin this weekend?” Dean asked.

“Of course. Can you tell me what’s going on, Dean? Do you need back up at all?”

“No, but thank you, Donna. We’re having a meeting with… an entity, and I can’t really talk about that right now.” Dean picked up a pad of post-its and a pen from next to the phone, and scribbled on it. He handed the note over to Donna, so she could read it: “House isn’t warded. Entities could be listening in. Sorry.”

Donna nodded. “Oh, I get it, Dean, no worries.” She took the post-its and pen, and scribbled her own note, handing it back to Dean: “Cabin not warded either. Problem?”

Dean and Donna 

Dean shook his head. “Listen, Donna, as a present to you, I had a thought. Last time I was at the cabin, I noticed that the walls seemed a little dingy, like they needed repainting. So, I got some paint, and we thought we’d take care of that for you while we’re there, if that’s okay with you.”

Donna got it, her eyes going wide for a second, then she nodded. She scribbled another note: “Warding just with paint, or with blood, too? And will you paint over, leaving warding up, after?”

Dean nodded, and wrote: “Paint only should be sufficient, will paint over but leave warding after.”

Donna grinned. “Okay, Dean, a free paint job sounds great, thanks!”

“Dean, we should get going.” Cas smiled at Donna. “Donna, it was nice to meet you. I’m sorry that we can’t stay longer, but it’s already after dark, and we need to get to the cabin and get some sleep so we can get an early start tomorrow.”

“Of course! Now, Dean, Castiel – and Sam, too – you boys are family. So, this is your house, and that cabin’s your cabin, too. Anytime you need a place, you hear? I appreciate a heads up, but if you just show up at the door, I’m not turnin’ ya away. So, I’d like to see more of you. Yeah?”

Dean smiled softly. “Yeah, Donna. Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Here. I had these made for you.” Donna handed Dean two sets of keys, and one to Castiel. “That second set there, Dean, that’s for Sam. I mean it. Any time. There’s a key to the front door and back door, here, and a key to the cabin, for each of the three of you.”

Dean leaned in and hugged Donna again. “Thanks. Love you.”

Donna hugged back. “Love you too, Dean.”

Donna grinned at Dean, then reached over and pulled Castiel into another hug. “You too, Cas. May I call you ‘Cas’?”

“Of course.” Cas hugged back, as well.

“Yay!” Donna cheered, and Dean laughed quietly.

“Okay, you boys git. You remember how to get to the cabin from here, Dean?” she asked.

“Yeah, I got it, Donna.” Dean grinned.

Donna walked them out, and watched from the porch as they walked back to the car and got in. Then she murmured to herself, “Hate to see ‘em go, love to watch ‘em leave. Mm mm mm.” She went back into the house and closed the door.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donna just makes everything better, doesn't she? :)
> 
> More art! 
> 
> 150 chapters, over 255K words, and still going!!!! ;) Please comment!


	151. For the First Time in Forever...or At Least, Eleven Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas settle into the cabin, and Dean writes about their earlier conversation in his journal, so he doesn't forget the details before speaking with Mia.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the cabin and parked. He glanced over and realized that Cas was asleep again. “Cas? Hey, Cas, wake up, Angel. We’re here.”

Cas’ eyes fluttered open, and he smiled. “I was just resting my eyes, Dean. I’m awake.” He pushed open the door and got out of the car, walking around and waiting while Dean opened the trunk to get his bag out of it. Cas looked up at the cabin, and noted, to his surprise, that it was much larger than he had anticipated it would be.

Dean grabbed his own bag and closed the trunk, then led the way into the cabin. He flicked on the lights. “C’mon, the bedrooms are down here.” He gestured toward the hallway on the left side of the large living room. Dean opened the door to the largest bedroom, waved Cas in, then followed. “This room’s the largest, and has the largest bed. We should be comfortable in here.”

Dean dropped his bags, then went back out toward the living room. Cas followed, curious.

Dean went to the kitchen and checked to see if supplies were needed. They weren’t. He shot a quick text to Donna to thank her for stocking the cabin, then put on a pot of coffee.

“Why don’t you find us a movie to watch, Angel? I need to get the spray paint out of the car, but it’ll just take a second.”

Cas nodded, and started looking through the DVD collection on the shelf above the television.

Dean went back out to the Impala, opened the trunk, opened the special compartment in the bottom, and got out the spray paint they’d need for the warding. He intended to leave the bulk of the job for the morning, but wanted to put up just a few basic wards tonight. He started with one on the outside of the front door.

Inside, Cas heard the click-click-click hissss of a can of spray paint being shaken, then used, and smiled. He selected _Adventures in Babysitting_ from among the DVDs, and put it in the player, then went to the kitchen to look for popcorn. He got that started in the microwave, and then found a large bowl in a cabinet. He heard Dean coming back inside just as the microwave timer dinged. “I’m just making the popcorn, Dean, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay, Angel, no rush,” Dean called back. “ _Adventures in Babysitting_? Really?” Dean laughed.

Cas grinned. He’d expected a lot more ribbing than that. He dumped the popcorn into the bowl, grabbed the bowl and two mugs of coffee, and headed carefully out to the couch and his waiting fiancé…. Who wasn’t waiting on the couch, but sitting at the writing desk in the corner of the living room.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, go ahead and start the movie, Cas. I just want to put a couple of the things we talked about at dinner and afterward in my journal quick, and then I’ll be right with you, okay?”

“Of course. I would like to read more of your writing at some point, if you don’t mind, my heart.”

“Hey, I told you, you have an open invitation, Angel. Any time you want to read through it, feel free. I value your perspective. You know that.”

Cas smiled and brought Dean’s coffee over to him. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of Dean’s head, and grinned as Dean started to blush.

“Thanks, Angel,” Dean murmured, opening the notebook and uncapping the pen.

Cas moved back over to the couch, and used the remote to start the movie.

Dean stared at the blank whiteness of the page, took a deep breath, and began to write.

***

_ **Friday Evening** _

_Hey, Mia. Just a quick explanation here – the last journal entry before this one, I wrote while riding in the car (sorry for the jacked handwriting) while Cas was driving. We stopped for dinner, and I had him read it, wanting his perspective. I found what he said to be incredibly helpful and it really meant a lot to me, so I want to try to recreate at least the important parts of the conversation here, so you’ll have the context, but I won’t go as far into all the same details here as when I was discussing this with Cas; we can talk about the specifics on Tuesday._

_Cas asked if Alastair’s claim that I’d been his sex slave was true. It was. He asked for details, and so I told him about what I experienced in Hell – essentially, they did_ _it all. Everything. Beatings, cuttings, rape, sex, whipping, suspension, burning – you name it, they did it. All day, every day, for thirty years. And every day, Alastair would come to me at the end of the day. And he’d stand over whatever was left of me, and he’d laugh. Or he’d act like he was sorrowful and pitying, but he was really mocking me. But however he acted, it all had the same effect – it pissed me off, and it gave me resolve. I was not going to give in to that asshole. I’d refuse, and he’d rebuild me, and they’d start again._

_Until the last day of the last year of the first thirty years I was in Hell… Then, Alastair came to me, but he didn’t laugh, and he wasn’t mockingly pitying, he just seemed… tired, maybe? And like he was as sick of it all as I was, and like we were both at the mercy of forces beyond our power to resist or understand. It was like he was just too tired to keep being mean. It was the first real, true kindness I’d experienced since going downstairs. He said that we could go forward with gentleness and kindness between us, if that’s what I wanted. I just had to agree to his terms, agree to be his – by day, his apprentice torturer, by night, his sex slave. He would be gentle, he said, so long as I did everything he asked of me, without question, without resistance. If I failed, I would be punished – but not with rape, and not by anyone but him. That night, Alastair healed me, and then he used me, but gently, and that gentle kindness and cessation of pain was so seductive, I gave up; I gave in; and by morning, I had agreed to his terms. And so, rather than being put back on the rack myself, I was given my choice of implements, and a choice of souls to torment. He watched everything I did, demanded that I be as vicious with them as he and the other demons had been with me – and I complied. I tore into them. I spilled not just a few drops, but buckets of blood that day. And, in so doing, I unknowingly broke the First Seal on Lucifer’s Cage._

_I told Cas that I’m not the same person I was when I went to Hell, **I’m the person that Alastair created**. Cas did his best to rebuild me, but even he couldn’t undo everything Alastair did. And I **chose** to become that person. I **chose** to be a vicious torturer. I **chose** to be Alastair’s sex slave. I **chose** to debase myself, for what I thought then would be eternity, **for a single night of kindness**. I started the Apocalypse, because a demon acted tenderly toward me **once**. The truth is that I am not, in fact, a good person. I try to do good things, and I try to do what’s right, but it’s not because I’m a good person. It’s because I’m **terrified** that I will die, and go back downstairs, and even though Alastair is in the Empty now, there will be someone who’ll take his place, and I’ll go right back to suffering like I did before. **And I’ll deserve it**. Every fucking minute of it._

_Then Cas asked if I had ever discussed my time in Hell with you. I explained that it had been mentioned, but that I hadn’t told you much in the way of specifics, just that Alastair had messed with my memories. I told him I’d never discussed the full details with **anyone** before, not even Sam. I never felt that Sam should have to bear the burden of those memories. It was enough that he knew that I had tortured others. I couldn’t tell my brother that I had begged to be used, that Alastair had made me beg nearly every night after I gave in. I think Sam could have excused begging **not** to be tortured, but I begged to **be** tortured, to be used, to be punished for having failed my master. And I don’t think Sam would have understood. I was… I am… ashamed of it._

_Cas told me that I’d had no choice, just the **illusion** of choice – to continue, on the one hand, to be tortured in the way I began my time in Hell, or, on the other, to be tortured in a completely different way, one in which I had a hope of occasional respite, which never actually came. In some ways, he said, that’s a worse kind of torture, having that hope._ _Cas said he didn’t blame me, because “we_ _all crave comfort, and love, and a little kindness now and then. After thirty years of starving for a gentle touch, you got one, and it seemed like a feast. You wanted more; that’s only natural. And Alastair_ **_knew_** _exactly what your reaction to that gentle touch would be, Dean, make no mistake. He played you. He lied.”_

 _I couldn’t agree that I was blameless. If all I had done was agree to be Alastair’s sex slave, his pet to torture, that would have been one thing; but I also agreed to, and did, torture others_ _so I could get down off the rack – that was a choice, a real choice, and I made it. Sam and Cas say that I’m blameless because I was under duress, but I couldn’t agree. **I had no right to torture other souls**. No matter how much relief it gave me to not be on the rack, I had no right to torture others in order to get down off of it. That was not a deal that I had any right to make. _

_Cas insisted, however: “You **were** under duress, Dean. Your choices were illusory, at best. But you know the best way to tell that you were blameless in the torture that you engaged in when in Hell? The breaking of the First Seal. The requirement for the Seal to break was that a **righteous** man had to spill blood in Hell. The definition of righteous is “morally right or justifiable; virtuous.” Thus, b_ _y definition, you cannot have been both righteous and blameworthy at the same time, Dean. Yes, its breaking was bad for the world and it allowed the start of the Apocalypse – but if you hadn’t been righteous when you spilled blood in Hell, the Seal would never have broken. The Seal **did** break. Ergo, you were **not** guilty. Your actions were virtuous.”_

_There it was – the evidence for which I’d blindly sought for eleven years, without ever really believing I’d find it. Cas was right. Breaking the First Seal had required that I be righteous when I shed blood in Hell. Had I been to blame for what I’d done, I would not have been righteous. I’d shed blood in Hell only as a torturer, and, yet, the Seal had broken. Therefore, **I was not to blame**. The logic was sound. I couldn’t find an argument against the conclusion – except for my own feelings of guilt and shame._

_I asked Cas, “But then … why do I still **feel** so guilty?”_

_He replied, “Because you **are** a righteous man. Your actions were virtuous, but you still regret what you had to do, even though you had no choice but to do it. Even though you bear no actual blame, your regret over the consequences of your actions leaves you feeling ashamed. And Dean – that means you **are** a good person. A bad person wouldn’t feel guilty. A **bad** person would have shrugged it off immediately. **You’ve** carried the burden of regret and guilt **for eleven years** , my heart. It’s time to let it go, Dean.”_

_And for the first time, Mia, I think it might be true. I might actually be able to believe that I am the good person that Cas has always believed me to be. That I might actually be worthy of him, and of his love._

_Also, we’re staying at Donna’s hunting cabin this weekend, and when we stopped off to pick up the key, Donna met Cas for the first time. She’s the first member of the extended family that we’ve told about the engagement, and she cheered and hugged us both. And then she surprised me – she told us that she considers Cas and I, and Sam, to be family, and so she had keys made for us, to both her house in Stillwater, and to the cabin – a key ring for each of the 3 of us – so that if we’re ever in the area and need a place to crash, we can use either the house or the cabin, even if we can’t reach her first (although she’d appreciate a heads-up, which, naturally, we’ll always provide). Cas’ grin was so wide when we left that I think it was probably hurting his face a little. He’s so happy with so little. I really need to do more, to give him things, to show him how important he is, that he doesn’t have to settle for crumbs. I need to give him the “whole loaf,” just as he does for me._

_Okay, he started the movie before I started writing, so I’m going to stop now and go watch it with him. I just needed to get this all down before I forgot something. But for once, I feel like I have something to really look forward to on Tuesday!_

***

Dean capped the pen and left the notebook and pen on the desk to go join Cas on the couch. He grabbed a handful of popcorn, then held a kernel up for Cas, who ate it from his fingers. Cas smiled, munching, and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean wrapped his arm around Cas and pulled him in closer. “Love you, Angel,” he whispered.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. PROGRESS. So proud of our Dean! :)
> 
> Comments, please? :)


	152. This is My Life, Now...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam talks about the possibility of making his own appointment with Mia with Gabriel. Cas cleans up, finishes the outdoor warding, and puts Dean to bed. Shann has another visit from Billie.

Sam shifted in his seat at the table in the library, then stretched, yawning widely.

“Need coffee, Samshine? Or actual sleep?” Gabriel materialized behind Sam and started rubbing Sam’s shoulders, digging in a bit with his thumbs to work out the muscle kinks.

“Yes.”

“Heh. C’mon, then.” They walked to the kitchen together, and Gabe got out two mugs. He held them while Sam poured, and then handed one to Sam. Sam pulled the flavored creamer out of the refrigerator, and they both doctored the coffee to their respective liking. And then Sam, rather than sipping slowly, downed half the mug in one go.

“Whoa, Sammy, take it easy, love.” Gabe filled the mug for him again. “I told you I’d turn off your REM cycle, you don’t need to stay awake, y’know.”

“Yeah, no, I’m just busy. Shann’s great, and he’s really helping with the clerical stuff, working the phones, and translating modern French or Spanish, but he can’t read Enochian, Aramaic, or Ancient Canaanite, or any of the dead languages, really. Which is fine, but we want to get the database up and running as soon as possible. The Men of Letters catalogued most of the collection, but they all could read all of the dead languages, so they didn’t bother to translate anything. I want all of this in modern, standard, American English, and we can’t slow down just because I get a little tired.” Sam again downed half the mug in one long swallow, and Gabe took it from him gently.

“Sam. Stop. Just stop, baby. Look, you don’t have to do all the translations yourself, okay? We’ve got angels who can do the Enochian and Ancient Canaanite. We could have ten of ‘em here on Monday, ready to work. Cas or I can go up and bring ‘em back down for you. Okay? This is not all on you.

“C’mere, sit down.” Gabe led Sam over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for him, then sat across the table, and took Sam’s hand. “Now, what’s this really about, Sam?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know. I feel unsettled. It’s not that I’m still scared about Lucifer or Michael coming after me while you’re gone, I know it’ll be fine. I guess… I’m kinda feeling left out. I know why, and it makes sense, and I’m not saying that I think I ought to be included in the meeting tomorrow, I shouldn’t. I just feel a little guilty that I can’t be there, and a little resentful that everyone else gets to, and I know it’s stupid, but there it is.”

“It’s not stupid, Sam. You feel how you feel, whether it makes sense or not, and your feelings are valid, even if the logic behind them isn’t.” Gabe reached for Sam’s hand and stroked it absently with his thumb. “Intellectually, sure, you get it. It makes sense for someone to stay here in case of emergency, it makes sense to keep Lucifer and Michael away from Amara, at least until we know more about her intentions, and, to do that, you have to be the one to stay behind. As you say, makes perfect sense. But emotionally, you hate not being able to be there as back-up for Dean, Cas, and I. You feel most secure when you’re in the thick of the action, and you don’t like being removed from it, not being there to keep an eye on the situation, and on us. I get it.”

“It’s not just that, Gabe.” Sam sighed again. “It’s horrible, you’re going to think I’m a horrible human being.”

“Never. Let me guess – happy as you are for Dean and Cas, you’re jealous?”

“Yes. Christ. I shouldn’t be. I’m so happy for them, and it’s been such a long time coming for them to get their shit together, but, at the same time…. What if they don’t need me anymore?”

“Samshine, Dean will always need you. So will Cas. They love you. You’re their brother, and their best friend. And you’re not horrible, you’re human.”

“Gabe, I think I’m going to make an appointment with Dean’s therapist for myself.”

“Okay, if you think it’ll help, go for it, Sam.” Gabe smiled. “I don’t think it ever hurts to have someone to talk to about your issues.”

“Have you ever…?”

“Yeah, actually. When I was in seminary. Nothing like studying what other people believe about your fucked-up family to send you running for the couch.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I bet.”

“Sam, if you want to talk to a therapist, I’m all for it. You know you can always talk to me, but I’m not exactly objective, seeing as I’m in love with you. As for the jealousy thing… you realize, I’d marry you in a heartbeat, not because I think Dean and Cas don’t need you, but because I know that I do. I wasn’t going to say anything yet, because we talked about going slow, but if you wanted that, I’m here for it, and for you.” Gabe’s gaze was steady, serene, looking straight into Sam’s eyes.

Sam blushed a little, flinched, half-smiled, then flinched again, and looked away. “Gabe, it’s not that I don’t love you, I do. But I have so much shit that I’ve never dealt with, stuff from my childhood that I just pushed down, stuff from the Cage, the Trials, losing you…” Sam choked up a bit. “Honestly, it wouldn’t be fair to you if I didn’t try to resolve at least some of that first. And yeah, I know, I can talk to you, you’re great. But really, Gabe, Dean’s not the only one who’s fucked up.”

“Having issues isn’t the same as being ‘fucked up,’ Sam. Everyone has issues. Granted, you may have more than most, and yours may be more serious than most – most people don’t have to deal with having been Lucifer’s vessel, or having been tortured by him in The Cage. That just means your therapist gets an exciting challenge. I don’t mean to put any pressure on you, we can go really slowly, absolutely, and if we never get there, that’s fine, too. Sometimes it’s about the journey. So, I’m not saying we have to get married. Just that if you wanted to, I absolutely would.” Gabe grinned.

Sam smiled tremulously. “Thanks, baby.”

“How about we get some sleep, Samshine? It’s late. Busy day tomorrow.”

***

At the end of the movie, Cas clicked the remote to turn the television off. He carefully slid out from under Dean’s arm, and set Dean’s arm comfortably on a pillow against the back of the couch. He picked up the mugs and the bowl and carried them out to the kitchen, setting them in the sink.

Then he got out one of the cans of spray paint and went outside to finish the outer warding that Dean had begun with the all-purpose ward on the front door. He painted additional symbols against demons, the lesser gods, and the other monsters that could be repelled by such wards. Since the only angels left were those loyal to him, he didn’t bother to ward against angels – which also would have precluded himself, Gabe, Hannah, and Balthazar from being able to enter the cabin, and thus would have been utterly counterproductive.

The symbols would have to be done again on the walls of each room inside of the cabin, but that could wait until morning. Cas let himself back into the cabin, and locked the door behind him. He put the paint can away.

Cas didn’t bother trying to wake Dean; he was sleeping far too soundly, and that itself was far too rare. He simply went over to the couch, picked Dean up gently, and carried him into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed, and tucking him in fully dressed, removing only Dean’s boots.

Then he gently laid two fingers on Dean’s forehead, and switched off Dean’s REM cycle. A nightmare tonight would be too distracting tomorrow. Dean needed his rest.

Cas stripped down quietly, and pulled on his pj pants, then slipped into bed himself. He kissed his finger and pressed it gently to Dean’s cheek, then closed his eyes to rest them.

He knew Dean thought he’d been sleeping earlier. He hadn’t. Resting, yes, of course, that was only sensible to do while one could – but his grace was fully charged, and he had no need of actual sleep, or food. The molecules of the coffee and popcorn were only just this side of tolerable, but he could manage it, to give Dean some sense of needed normalcy. It wasn’t a lie; Dean knew he didn’t need to sleep or eat, he wasn’t hiding anything from Dean. It was simply that Dean was still uncomfortable with the idea of being in a relationship with a non-human (thanks, John!), and Cas would do quite a bit to spare Dean from even the minimal discomfort of having it be thrown in his face that the person with whom he was in love was not, in fact, a person, at all. Really, Cas needed no further rest right now, but there was little else to do, besides think, plan, and try to line up his suspicions with his research and investigation results. There was a time, not so very long ago, when Cas would have literally stood guard over Dean while he slept; now, Dean would rest better with Cas lying next to him, unconsciously able to sense the angel’s presence.

The light was getting stronger, brighter, each time it flared. Even Dean himself could see it now – and control it, at least a little. Some of Cas’ suspicions related to the meaning of “the light is the key,” but he still had nothing concrete. He made a mental note to put asking Amara about it on the meeting agenda; then reconsidered. Perhaps that was better asked after the formal meeting, and out of Dean’s presence, for the moment. If Cas’ suspicions were correct, fine; but if he was wrong, it was better not to create a false hope – or worry – and he really wasn’t sure which would be Dean’s reaction.

One thing he was sure of: Amara would know whether or not he was right. And if he was, she was one of perhaps only two entities in the universe who would. And the only one he could ask.

***

Shann was sitting on his couch, eating pizza, with the game on. He got up and answered the knock on his door without checking to see who it was, then immediately regretted it.

“Hey, Shann. Can I come in?” Billie asked.

He nodded, stiffly, and held the door open for her.

“Relax. I already told you I wasn’t going to be coming for you for some time. You’re safe.” Billie smirked a little, but noted that he did, in fact, relax.

“What do you want?” Shann asked.

“World peace. But that’s not likely. Actually, I’d like you to do another favor for me, if you’d be so kind.”

“What’s that?”

“Sam Winchester. I want you to keep an eye on him tomorrow. I know you don’t normally work on a Saturday, but I have a feeling you might get a call asking you to stop by; even if you don’t, I want you to make up an excuse to go in. Can you do that?”

“I probably can; why should I?”

“Are you asking me what’s in it for you?” Billie inquired, vaguely amused.

“No, actually. I’m wondering why you suddenly think Sam can’t take care of himself.”

Billie nodded, a little impressed with Shann’s response. “It’s not so much that he can’t. It’s more that he usually has help, but tomorrow, unless you go in to work, he’s going to be alone. And Sam, alone, is not a good idea, for various reasons.”

“Not good enough. Explain.”

Billie quirked a brow. “Feisty, aren’t you? Okay, okay. I assume that, by now, you know that not everyone you work with is human, right?”

“Yeah. And?”

“Dean and the angels won’t be there tomorrow. They’ll be elsewhere. The angels can teleport back, in an emergency, but they won’t be there to stop an emergency from happening in the first place. That’s why I would like for you to be there. How much have you been told, or figured out by now, about Lucifer and Michael, exactly?”

“I know that Sam was possessed by Lucifer, and managed to fight him down, long enough to lock him back in The Cage, in Sam’s body. That Sam was rescued in two parts, his body almost immediately, by Castiel, and his soul, later, by your predecessor.”

“Good.” Billie nodded. “Anything else?”

“I know that later, Sam and Dean, with Crowley and Rowena, got Lucifer back out of The Cage to try to fight the Darkness – God’s sister, Amara – and afterward, Lucifer escaped. Eventually, he was killed.”

“Sort of. In fact, he was caught on the brink of death, before one of my staff of reapers could take him to the Empty, by Amara. She gave Lucifer a choice – he could die, and go to the Empty, never to return, or, he could choose to return to The Cage, which she had turned into a simple holding cell – no longer its own instrument of torture, but still fully capable of holding an Archangel or six, even fully charged. And he would not be charged up, although his grace would, eventually, refresh until he was charged up again.”

“Okay. And? How is all of this relevant to Sam? Would you like some coffee? Glass of water?” Shann offered, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“No, thank you, I’m good. This is relevant to Sam, because The Cage is a metaphysical construct. It doesn’t exist in a single time, place, or plane of existence. When you’re in The Cage, you’re locked away, not just in a physical sense, in the actual Cage in Hell, but also in a very real psychological sense, in an identical Cage located in your own mind. In Sam’s case, when Castiel got Sam’s body out, he broke the lock on the Cage in Sam’s mind, leaving the actual Cage in Hell intact. When my predecessor went back for Sam’s soul, he outright obliterated the door on the Cage in Sam’s mind, but again, left the actual Cage in Hell intact. When Amara offered Lucifer the choice, she was not aware of that, but Lucifer was – he knew Sam had escaped, obviously, and had realized it was the only way it could have been done. So, since Amara didn’t specify that Lucifer had to go to The Cage in Hell, Lucifer chose to go to the Cage, but went to the one in Sam’s mind. Since it doesn’t have a door, much less a lock, Lucifer is free to wander about in Sam’s head. And when Michael was killed, Amara gave him the same option, and Lucifer pulled him into Sam’s head, as well.

“Now, I have someone on my staff keeping an eye on Sam and Dean, but they can’t intervene, or even let anyone know they’re there, and so far, Gabriel and Castiel haven’t noticed them. And they’re reporting back to me that Lucifer and Michael are playing ball, and pledging to be nice. But Lucifer has the power to pull Sam into a pocket dimension if he goes outside the Bunker’s warding, even as diminished as he currently is, and with no angels around, and no Dean, and my staff unable to intervene or show themselves, I need someone to be there to make sure that Sam doesn’t head toward the door suddenly, for no apparent reason, capiche?”

Shann nodded. “And that’s all I need to do? Just make sure that Sam stays inside the Bunker?”

“Until Gabriel or the other angels return, yes.”

“I can do that. Not so much for you, though, as for Sam. Nothing personal. Hope you understand.”

Billie grinned. “Shann, I like you. Can’t we be friends?”

“Um, no offense, but, you’re Death. So….”

“Eh, it’s just a job. Would you be offended if someone told you they couldn’t be friends with you because you’re just a temporary clerical worker?”

“Just a job, huh?”

“Yeah. I used to be a reaper. The old Death died. I was the next reaper to die, so I got the job. Hell of a promotion system, isn’t it? Nothing to do with merit.”

“Hey, at least it isn’t nepotism,” Shann pointed out.

Billie laughed. “Seriously. So, no chance we can be friends, Shann? I mean, being Death is kinda lonely sometimes. Sometimes, even Death just wants to hang out, watch the game, and eat some pizza, y’know?”

Shann waved her into the living room. “Knock yourself out. Fourth quarter, Packers – Lions. Not sure who’s winning. Pizza might be cold, by now. Sure you don’t want some coffee?”

Billie looked a bit startled, then smiled widely. “Got any beer?”

“Um… let me look.” Shann opened the fridge. “Yeah, one. Want it? It’s yours.”

“Thanks…. You mean it, I can stay?”

“Have a seat, Billie. This is my life now.”

Shann 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even celestial beings get lonely. ;)
> 
> More art! So, that's how I envision Shann - kind of a young-ish Robert Downey, Jr. look.
> 
> Comments? Pleeeeeease? ;D


	153. Early Saturday Moanin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann gets up early for a Saturday, and heads to work, forgetting he needs an excuse; fortunately, while he's on the way there, Gabe calls to ask him to come in. Cas wakes early and decides he may not need sleep, but he does need snuggles.

Shann woke fairly early, he thought, considering it was, one, a Saturday; two, supposed to be his day off; and, three, the morning after he’d hosted Death for beer, pizza, and a football game on TV – and had fun doing it. Billie had left around midnight; Shann hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly 2:00. He’d set an alarm for 7:00, but slapped it to snooze a few times, and he was just getting up now, at 7:30. If he was going to make it a full day at the Bunker, he’d need to leave in twenty minutes.

He hoped there were still some of Gabe’s muffins in the kitchen, because he wasn’t going to have time to get breakfast anywhere else. He took a quick shower, got dressed, remembered his shoes, his wallet, his keys, and went to the door. He went to the closet for his coat, and thought for a second, went back to the bedroom for his cell phone, and left for the basement garage of his apartment building.

Shann reached his car without incident. He got in, drove out of the garage, and remembered that he needed an excuse for being at work. He couldn’t tell Sam that Billie had asked him to keep an eye on him; he had to have something work-related. But what? He’d finished the filing. He’d finished all of the modern French translations, and Sam had said that the modern Spanish could wait until Monday. They so rarely had a hunter call for credential checks or research on the weekend that Sam had said he could handle the weekend calls himself.

Shann 

His cell phone rang, and he answered it with the car’s Bluetooth. “Shann Murray.”

“Hey, Shann, it’s Gabe. I know it’s your day off, but could you possibly do me a favor and come in?”

“Um, sure, Gabe. What’s up?”

“I’ll explain when you get here. Are you driving right now? Am I pulling you away from something? Family plans or whatnot?”

“No, I was just heading out to get some breakfast,” Shann crossed his fingers.

_It’s not a lie. I was going to eat breakfast when I got to work._

“Oh, well, I made fresh muffins this morning, and you know you’re welcome to just eat here.”

“Right, sounds good. Be there in five.”

“Excellent.” Gabe ended the call.

Shann breathed a sigh of relief. He remembered now that Billie had said he might get a call. Now he didn’t have to come up with an excuse.

***

While Dean was still sleeping soundly, Cas got up at 7:00. He put a fresh pot of coffee on, brushed his teeth, and came back to bed, waiting for Dean to awaken on his own. Cas had decided that, while he didn’t need sleep, he _did_ require morning snuggles. At 7:30, Dean started to stir.

“Mornin’, Angel.” Dean stretched and yawned.

“Good morning, Dean. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen.”

“Too comfy to care. C’mere.”

Cas grinned and moved into Dean’s arms. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Yeah, like I don’t know about you and morning snuggles by now.”

“You caught me.”

“Fair and square.” Dean pulled Cas closer and kissed his nose. “You’re mine, now.”

“Yup, all yours.”

Dean realized that he was still dressed. “Hmm. Guess you put me to bed last night. I don’t even remember coming into the bedroom.”

“You wouldn’t. You fell asleep on the couch shortly before the end of the movie. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you, so I just picked you up and carried you in here, took your boots off, and tucked you in.”

“I was going to finish the outdoor wards after the movie.”

“I took care of it, my heart. No worries. I had plenty of rest yesterday.”

“Cas, I was actually going to ask – are you okay? You’ve been sleeping a lot lately. I thought you didn’t need to sleep with your grace fully recharged.”

“I don’t. But like Gabe told you before, it just makes sense to rest when you’ve either been through a lot lately, or you anticipate that things might get… exciting. The meeting today could be stressful; the meeting next weekend almost certainly will be; so I’m just resting in anticipation of needing to have a little extra energy, that’s all.” Cas smiled reassuringly.

“Okay. Just checking. I was thinking, maybe we should ask Amara about the light today. It wasn’t on the agenda, but if anyone might know, and would tell us, you’d think it’d be her, wouldn’t you?” Dean suggested.

“About that. You remember that I told you yesterday that I have some suspicions about the light, and what Kelly told Jack in his dream, about what it all means, but I didn’t know anything for certain yet?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, one of the things that I wanted to do to have those suspicions either confirmed, or dispelled, was to ask Amara about them. But what I’m thinking, well, it may be might be good, might be bad, and if I’m off-track, and I may well be, I don’t want to either get hopes up or cause undue concern. Will you trust me, Dean, to speak with Amara about this on my own, first? I promise that I’ll tell you after, either way, what I think it may mean, and what she tells me about it.”

Dean shrugged. “Of course. I trust you, Angel. As long as you promise that you’ll tell me after you talk to her about it, no matter what she says, then sure.”

“I appreciate the trust, Dean. I don’t want to do anything that would cause you to think that I’m going off half-cocked, on my own, without revealing my plans to you. I don’t want to shut you out; it’s just that, what I’m thinking, well, it could be considered pretty ‘out there’, and if I’m wrong, I’m going to feel silly enough without having brought you into it beforehand.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “Cas, ‘out there’ stuff is pretty much our lives, but I understand. Look, you’ve told me you have suspicions that you’re investigating, you’re being open about what you’re doing and why, and you’ve said that you’ll tell me the specifics regarding your theory when you have confirmation of whether or not your theory is correct. And that’s all I need to know until then. That’s progress, Cas. Time was, you’d have just not said anything at all, just gone haring off to do what you thought needed to be done, without telling me or Sam anything at all. You’re not doing that anymore, and I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, Dean. You’ve made progress, too. Time was, you’d have just yelled at me for wanting to research or investigate on my own, rather than trusting my judgment. But you’ve given me a lot more credit than you used to, ever since Reno. I think we’ve both grown, and I don’t know about you, but I feel like the bond we’ve always had has gotten stronger as a result, not just because we’ve acknowledged our feelings for each other, but because we’re each being more considerate of the other. We’re both taking each other’s feelings into account more than we used to do.”

Dean nodded. “I agree, Angel.” Dean stretched again. “I think it’s time we got up and got moving. I need a shower, we both need to get dressed, and we both need caffeine. You did say there was fresh coffee, right?”

“I did.”

“I’m guessing you won’t want breakfast?”

“It’s all just molecules. I can do without.” Cas shrugged.

“Okay, then I’ll just scramble an egg for myself and make a slice of toast to go with it.”

Dean gave Cas a small squeeze, then rolled out of bed, got fresh clothes and a towel, and headed for the bathroom. Cas got dressed and went out to the kitchen.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's making progress! Yay! ;)
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Comments are proof of life, guys - are you still alive out there in self-isolation /quarantine? Hello? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? ;) Seriously, please comment! :)


	154. I'm Not Even Supposed To Be Here Today!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann is at work on his day off, doing work he wasn't planning to do until next week, at the request of Billie and Gabe. Jody is at work on her day off, getting caught up on work she'd been planning to do this past week, until she'd gotten caught up in the bank investigation at the request of Donna and her attorney. Alex is at work on her day off, filling in for a nurse who called in sick, because no one could locate Julie, whose turn it was supposed to be to fill in, and Alex made the mistake of answering her cell without checking Caller ID. Oops.

Shann pulled into the parking lot and parked in front of the door. He supposed that he ought to be used to the fact that the door, the railing and steps down to it, and the concrete slab that appeared to be set into the hillside, covered with scrubby brush and grass, above it, were the only parts visible to him of what he knew to be a much larger building. He knew that even the parts that were visible _to him_ were _invisible_ to almost everyone else. It looked to him like someone had just decided to set a door, steps down to it, and a fence above it, into a hillside. Before Sam had allowed him to see that much, he’d _just_ seen the hillside, and _nothing else_. He now knew for a fact that the large tree off to his left _wasn’t really there_. He shook his head.

Shann, entering the bunker 

_Three weeks ago, I was normal. Unemployed and broke, but normal. Now? Now I’m going in to work on my day off, in the invisible underground building where I do translations of occult texts, in order to keep my boss safe from the undead Satan in his brain, at the request of Death and the Archangel Gabriel, after having Death over for pizza and football last night. Yeah. So much for “normal.” Normal has pretty much gone out the window, at this point._

What was possibly worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted “normal” back.

He turned off the car, got out, made sure it was locked up, and walked over to the door. As he always did, he touched the “grass” that made up the invisible concrete wall next to the door, to watch the wall briefly _become_ visible, and chuckled under his breath. “So weird.” He put his key in the lock, and pulled the door open.

He went inside and down the steps, and turned right into the kitchen. As promised, there were fresh chocolate chip muffins and hot coffee waiting. He poured himself a mug of coffee, took three of the muffins, and headed to the library. He found a note from Gabriel:

_“Shann – we went for a quick run. Back shortly, as Sam promises not to make me do more than five miles today. If you didn’t already, grab some muffins. Dean and Cas are gone for the weekend, and Jack is away until Tuesday. Balth and Hannah are around somewhere, but should leave you alone. If you could get started on the modern Spanish translations, that’ll keep you busy until we get back. Thx, Gabe.”_

He nodded, set the note down, got the text he had planned to start translating on Monday morning, and seated himself at the table.

_Hey, at least it’s overtime._

He took a bite out of a muffin, and got down to work.

***

Jody took a bite out of a donut, and sat down at her desk. Last night had gone better than she had expected. She’d had to explain to Claire why Dean and Cas weren’t able to make it, but, fortunately, Claire had not blamed the messenger, nor had she blamed Donna, Cas, nor Dean. She’d simply accepted it, and wondered aloud what Cas and Dean had been wanting to tell her. As Jody didn’t know, she was of no assistance in that regard, and Claire had shrugged, taken a large bite of General Tso’s chicken, and let it go, following Amy’s advice to “be Elsa!”

The girls had easily adapted to Amy’s presence, treating her like the adult she was mentally in private, helping her like the child she appeared to be when in public. Jody knew that Amy was frustrated, probably even more so than she let on, and that she was still having nightmares about her memories of events that had occurred and actions that had been taken by Emily and Julie back when Amy was in stasis. Jody found it hard to blame Julie – who had been an innocent child, after all, while growing out of Amy’s back, and hadn’t even known about her shtriga-monster half – but she wished she’d had an opportunity to give Emily a piece of her mind, and didn’t regret the fact that the boys had put the vila to rest for good.

Amy was too thin, still. She had been very sick, and at the very least undernourished, if not actually malnourished, while Julie’s shtriga-monster half had been feeding on her. She still wasn’t getting enough sleep, due to the nightmares. Given all of that, she had big, dark circles under her eyes, and tended to bruise easily everywhere, her skin marking if touched even a little too roughly. Still, she was a striking child, with long, light blonde ringlets, and large, deep blue eyes. Jody closed her eyes, trying to think of what, or who, Amy’s eyes reminded her…and then it hit her – Castiel’s eyes. They were almost the same shade.

Amy 

Once Amy gained back some weight, and her skin lost that easily bruised look, she could almost be a model, Jody thought. Jody made a note to ask the doctor if Amy needed some special nutritional supplements in the short term.

Jody sighed and turned to the pile of papers on her desk. She wasn’t even supposed to be in the office today, but she’d spent so much time on the bank investigation this week, she’d fallen behind on everything else. She had about eight reports of her own to finish, and around twenty-five from her deputies that she needed to review and either sign off on, or ask questions about, before they’d be complete. It was going to be a long day, and that was assuming that neither the Fibbies nor the Secret Service realized she was working, and decided they desperately needed her help again today.

She picked up a sheet of paper and a pen, and got down to it.

***

Alex yawned. She was having trouble readjusting to first shift, after having been on split-double shifts for so long. Now that the “epidemic” was over, of course HR had gotten around to hiring fifteen new nurses, and all the shifts were covered.

She took another sip of her coffee. She wasn’t actually supposed to be working today, but another nurse had called in sick. Even so, technically it ought to have been Julie’s shift to cover, but no one had been able to reach Julie, and Alex had stupidly answered her cell phone without checking the caller ID, so, here she was.

At least she had Chinese leftovers for lunch (thanks, Claire!).

Alex at work 

And, at least it was a slow day, at least so far, on the pediatric ward. Down from the “epidemic” high of 20 patients technically assigned to the ward, though some had had to be housed in rooms on an adult ward, the pediatric ward now had only eight youngsters in beds, and three of them were in traction with broken ankles after a tangled fall in a soccer game. Those three were in their early teens, weren’t going anywhere while in traction, and were fairly doped up after the surgeries that had pieced each of their broken ankles back together. Other than going in to occasionally take their vitals, rehang their IV bags, and note their charts, there wasn’t much to do for them, and taking care of the three of them was a snap compared to caring for the “epidemic” patients, who had all been released. As promised, once Julie’s shtriga-monster half stopped feeding on the children, a short course of IV antibiotics had cleared up their symptoms within a few days, and, almost in identical order to being admitted, they had been sent home.

Alex took another sip of her coffee. She was tempted to pull out a leftovers container and eat a jumbo shrimp, but she suppressed it. She only had two more hours until lunch; she could wait.

_I have charts to update. Better get to it._

She pulled the first chart in the stack, and bent her head over it.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, did you think you were getting the meeting with Amara this chapter? Soon! ;)
> 
> More art! One in color!!
> 
> Please comment - and not to tell me how mean I am for not getting to the meeting yet. That's in the afternoon; this is what's going on in the morning. ;)
> 
> Love y'all!!!
> 
> Update on my foot - problem solved. It wasn't my tendon at all. I had a 1/2" long splinter buried in my heel. Got it out, no more problem. Little residual achiness, that's all. Yay!


	155. More Confirmation of Lucifer's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann translates a text that confirms some of Lucifer's story about the creation of the demons. He chats with Sam, and then with Gabe. Then Gabe, Balthazar, and Hannah head off to the meeting.

Off in the distance, he vaguely heard the iron door open, feet coming down the iron steps, and voices talking and laughing. Shann didn’t look up. He was right in the middle of a sentence. While it was modern Spanish, the words weren’t in his usual vocabulary, and he was having to look up about every third or fourth word in this particular text, so the work was slow-going.

  * **_En los días de la vieja Malachai, el monstruo, destructor de mundos, vino el Arcángel para tomar el lugar del monstruo's, echado por el Señor en las profundidades del reino de la prisión, inicialmente como un prisionero, más tarde como gobernante, reinando en el terror mientras retorcía a las almas a sus oscuros propósitos, tratando de hacer ingeniería inversa del proceso de creación._**
  * **_In the days of old Malachai, the Monster, destroyer of worlds, came the Archangel to take the monster's place, cast down by the Lord into the depths of the prison realm, initially as a prisoner, later as Ruler, reigning in terror as He twisted souls to his dark purposes, seeking to reverse engineer the creation process._**



_The Archangel… I think this is talking about Lucifer. But who is Malachai?_

  * **_Primero_** ** _vino Lilith, la primera mujer creada por el Señor, terca y poco dispuesta a someterse al hombre, arrojada a un lado y arrojada a las profundidades. El_** ** _A_** ** _rcángel la torturó._** **_Su alma se hizo añicos como el cristal, su cuerpo se convirtió en humo, y el Arcángel lo reformó en arcilla, que habitó durante décadas, hasta que trajeron a un niño para que lo tomara._** ** _Lilith consumió el alma del niño y residió en su cuerpo._**
  * **_First came Lilith, the Lord's first-created woman, stubborn and unwilling to submit to man, cast aside and thrown into the depths. The Archangel tortured her. Her soul shattered like glass, her body became like smoke, and was reshaped by the Archangel in clay, which she inhabited for decades, until a child was brought for her to take instead. Lilith consumed the child's soul and resided in its body._**



_Well, that’s not creepy, at all._

  * **_Entonces el Arcángel creó a los cuatro Príncipes eternos. No tenían almas, pero sus cuerpos eran propios, y no necesitaban vasijas, porque no estaban hechas de humo, ni estaban torcidas ni deformadas. Pero eran crueles y oscuros, y el Arcángel no confiaba en ellos, y trató de no darles Poder, ni conocimiento, sino que encontraron por su cuenta._**
  * **_T_** ** _hen the Archangel created the four eternal Princes. They had no souls, but their bodies were their own, and they needed no vessels, for they were not made of smoke, nor were they twisted or misshapen. But they were cruel and dark, and the Archangel had no trust in them, and sought not to give them Power, nor knowledge, but that they found on their own._**



_Probably a good idea. Imagine if Lucifer had given the Princes power and knowledge they didn’t have to get for themselves?_

  * **_La creación de los Príncipes agotó al Arcángel, y no pudo crear más seres a partir de la esencia del universo, por lo que recurrió una vez más a la ingeniería inversa de los humanos, la arcilla viva del Señor. Pero descubrió que cada intento dejaba al ex humano una sombra oscura y retorcida de humo de su antiguo yo, inmune a la enfermedad pero capaz de ser asesinado, teniendo que tomar a otro humano como su recipiente, pero sin necesidad de permiso, capaz de invadir simplemente._**
  * **_The Princes’ creation exhausted the Archangel, and he could create no more beings from the essence of the universe, so he turned once again to trying to reverse-engineer humans, the living clay of the Lord. But he found that each attempt left the former human a dark and twisted smoke-shadow of its former self, immune to illness but able to be killed, having to take yet another human as its vessel, but needing no permission, able simply to invade._**



_This is talking about the creation of demons, how Lucifer made them._

  * **_El Arcángel descubrió que la Marca corrompió la obra de la creación y no le permitió reconstruir lo que su Padre había hecho con tanta precisión. Luego, el Arcángel descubrió que sus nuevos seres podían crear más de sí mismos a partir de otros humanos a través de la tortura y el despojo sistemático del alma de la carne. Eliminada la humanidad, los nuevos seres se volvieron casi automáticamente a hacer más de sí mismos._**
  * **_The Archangel found that the Mark corrupted the work of creation and would not allow Him to rebuild what his Father had made with such precision. Then, the Archangel discovered that his new beings could create more of themselves from other humans through torture and the systematic stripping of the soul from the flesh. Humanity removed, the new beings almost automatically turned to making more of themselves._**



_And that explains how demons continued to be made after Lucifer was put into the Cage – they made more of themselves._

“…right, Shann? Shann?”

“Hmm? What? Oh. Hi, Sam.” Shann looked up, and realized that Sam was amused. “Sorry, were you talking to me? I was kinda lost in this translation.”

Sam grinned. “It’s fine. I noticed your car outside as we were coming back in, and that’s when Gabe got around to telling me that he’d asked you to come in today. I was just saying that I was sure you had better things to do with your off-time than come in here and babysit me, but if you’re that into it, I guess I’m wrong.”

“Oh. Well, actually… Gabe’s not the only one who asked.”

“What, did Dean or Cas call you, too?”

“No. Billie stopped by last night. She asked me to keep an eye on you today.”

Sam pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his arms, and slumped gracelessly into a chair. “Did she? Interesting. Did she happen to mention why?”

“She probably won’t like that I’m telling you this, but she didn’t say not to, just that I should come up with an excuse for coming in if I didn’t get a call asking me to. And I don’t like the feeling of holding out on you, it makes me uncomfortable.” Shann related the conversation he’d had with Billie the night before. “I really don’t mind helping out, Sam. And yeah, this text is pretty interesting. But if you really don’t want me here, I’ll go.”

“Nah. It’s fine. I actually appreciate the concern, and the company. And it’s actually kinda nice to know that Billie’s got an ear to the ground.”

“So, we’re good?”

“Of course. You’re helping out, and being open and above board about the reasons why. I’ll never give someone grief for that kind of thing, Shann. I appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s not really fair for you to pay me OT when you didn’t even know I’d be here.”

“Nope, you work the time, you get paid for it. No matter why you’re here, you’re here. If anything, I’ll take the extra out of Gabe’s hide, since he called you without bothering to tell me, but you’ve got no worries, Shann. I said we’re good, and we are.” Sam smiled. “I’m gonna hit the showers. Did you get some muffins?”

“Yup, on my way in, I got muffins and coffee in the kitchen. I think I’m due for a second cup, though. Oh, and when I say this text is interesting, I mean it might be to you. You might want to take a look at it. It’s about Lucifer and the creation of Lilith, the Princes, and demons.”

“Okay. Maybe later. Thanks, man.” Sam left the library, headed for the shower. Shann went to the kitchen, in search of caffeine. He found it, and Gabriel.

“Sam didn’t give you too much shit, did he?” Gabe asked.

“No, none at all, actually. I told him what I’ll tell you - you’re not the only entity to ask me to sit with him today. Billie stopped by my place last night, she told me what’s going on with Lucifer and Michael, asked me to keep an eye on Sam today. So, he’s okay with my being here, and so am I. He did say he might make you pay my OT, though.” Shann grinned as the Archangel groaned. “Hey, you might know. Who is ‘Malachai, the Monster, destroyer of worlds’?”

Gabe looked blank. “No idea. Never heard of him. There’s a Malachi in the Old Testament, but he was a prophet, not a monster or a destroyer. Why?”

“Mentioned in the text I’m translating from modern Spanish, to wit: ‘ _In the days of old Malachai, the Monster, destroyer of worlds, came the Archangel to take the monster's place, cast down by the Lord into the depths of the prison realm, initially as a prisoner, later as Ruler, reigning in terror as He twisted souls to his dark purposes, seeking to reverse engineer the creation process.’_ I figured the Archangel there is Lucifer. And I’d heard of Malachi, the prophet. But I never heard of ‘Malachai, the Monster, destroyer of worlds.”

“Yeah, I dunno. Probably not terribly important, at this point in time, though. All right, I’ve gotta collect Balth and Hannah, and we’ve gotta head out. You’re good to stay until we get back?”

“Yeah, I’m good, Gabe.”

***

Gabriel, Hannah, and Balthazar landed next to the Impala. Balthazar looked pointedly over at Gabriel.

“Is there a reason we’re outside the hovel?”

“Do you really want to take a chance on coming upon the newly-engaged pair in an unintentional public display of affection?” Gabriel countered. “This is for your sake, Balth, not theirs.”

“Oh, well, by all means, thank you, then, Gabriel. I do appreciate the slog through several feet of mud to reach the door, truly.”

“Oh, Balth, hush.” Hannah smiled at him. “You can fly to the door from here, if it’s that important to you to keep your shoes clean.”

Balthazar Hannah 

Balthazar blushed a little at being called out, and followed Hannah to the door.

Gabriel poked Hannah. “You’ve gotta teach me that trick sometime.”

“No, Gabe, I don’t think I will,” Hannah grinned. “You’re dangerous enough without it.”

She knocked on the cabin door and waited politely for Castiel or Dean to open it.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the meeting! Promise!! ;)
> 
> So, yeah, Gabe's right, I'm sure that 'Malachai, the Monster, destroyer of worlds' won't be at all important. ;D
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Comments, please?? :)


	156. The Meeting With Amara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have the meeting with Amara; then Cas asks to speak with her alone. Dean tries to focus on repainting the cabin. Gabriel has a realization.

Cas came to let them in, handing them each a can of spray paint as they entered.

“I got the wards up outside, but if you would go around and check them, Gabe, make sure I didn’t miss anything, paint didn’t run or get smudged overnight, etc., I’d appreciate it. Dean’s doing the farthest bedroom’s wards at the moment. The plan is, we paint the wards, and do them well, leaving them out in the open so they're visible during the meeting as they’re as much for Amara’s protection as our own, then when the meeting is over, we’ll paint over them so the cabin is presentable, but the wards are intact.” The other three angels nodded as Cas spoke.

Balthazar, Castiel, and Hannah each took an unwarded room in the cabin and got started, while Gabriel went back outside to do any fix-ups or remaining wards necessary. He also did a few special sigils a short distance from the cabin to keep interested outsiders away and unable to listen in.

With five of them working, it took little time, but Gabriel and Castiel went around and did a final check to make sure each ward was as strongly in place as possible. Then they all washed up, and Dean asked if anyone wanted anything for lunch. None of the angels were hungry, so Dean had a quick sandwich, and they sat down around the dining room table to wait for Amara.

Precisely at noon, there was the brief sound of a deep bell ringing, and then a knock on the door. Castiel opened the door for Amara.

“Thank you, nephew.”

She breezed in, and set her large totebag down on the couch. She leaned in to give Castiel a hug, and laughed a little at the surprise evident on his face when she demanded, “I want to see the rings.”

Castiel blushed a little, as he held up his hand for her inspection.

“Lovely. Engraved?”

“On the inside, yes. Mine says ‘Dean’s Angel,’ and Dean’s says ‘Cas’ Heart’. Otherwise, they’re identical.”

“And who chose them?”

“Dean did. He surprised me with them, although I knew he was likely planning to propose.”

“He chose well.” Amara smiled. “I’m very pleased, and so happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Aunt Amara.”

“Dean?” Amara said, entering the dining room. “Excellent choice of a ring, and of a fiancé. I was just telling Castiel that I’m very pleased and happy for you, both.” She leaned in to give Dean a brief hug as well. Dean smiled.

“Well, Aunt Amara, shall we get straight to it, then?” Cas asked, as everyone seated themselves around the table.

“We can certainly do that, let me just say hello to Gabriel, Balthazar, and Hannah. Hannah, Balthazar, good to see you again. How is Heaven?”

Hannah smiled. “It’s powered up, and Inias is in charge, at the moment, so all is well.”

“Excellent. Gabriel. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Aunt Amara, thank you.”

“All three of you have recovered? Not having any residual problems from having been in the Empty?”

Balthazar responded for all of them. “No, no problems.”

Amara nodded. “All right, then. Well, Castiel, you and Dean asked for this meeting, through Hannah. And just so you know, in addition to your warding, I’ve added some protections, that will keep this meeting off of my brother’s radar, as well. So. What’s on your minds?”

Amara 

Castiel took a deep breath. “We have a meeting with your brother next weekend. He says he wants to stop the fighting, that he regrets it. I know that you’ve decided to be neutral in our disagreement with him, and we respect that decision, but we need to ask if you would be willing to possibly violate that neutrality for one purpose.”

“What purpose is that, Castiel?” Amara watched his eyes carefully.

“Lucifer and Michael.”

“What about them?”

Gabe took over. “Sam needs them out of his head, Aunt Amara. It’s unfair to him to make him have them in his head, especially since they’re not locked up in the Cage in his brain. Even though they’ve been playing ball with us nicely lately, and staying out of Sam’s dreams, it’s still a huge drain on him. And, we could use the extra power in the meeting with Dad, should he decide to change his mind, again.”

Amara leaned back in her chair, and considered.

“Well, you’re right, it’s not fair to Sam to have them rattling around inside his head, and that certainly wasn’t my intention when I gave them the choice I gave each of them at the moment of their respective death. I gave them the choice of the Empty, or the Cage, and they chose the Cage; I’ll honor that choice. But I don’t have to violate neutrality to pull them out of Sam’s brain. I can simply throw them into the Cage in Hell, and make sure that neither any of you, nor them, nor my brother, can let them out of it. Besides, if I sent them to the Empty, the Cosmic Entity might consider them loyal enough to Castiel here to send them back. And while that doesn’t violate my neutrality, I don’t want to risk having them out and available to Chuck, should one or both of them decide to change sides once returned. Is that fair?”

Gabriel looked at Cas, who shrugged a little. Gabe turned to Amara and nodded, stiffly. “Fair.”

“Done. By the time you return to Sam, Gabriel, Lucifer and Michael will be out of his head. Is there anything else?”

“Not for the meeting, but may I speak with you briefly, Aunt Amara, alone?” Castiel requested.

“Certainly.” Amara smiled.

Amara 

***

Dean and the angels, minus Castiel, went about covering up the wards with a fresh coat of paint on the cabin’s interior walls. Dean considered a fresh paint job the least he could do for Donna, in exchange for her having allowed them the use of the cabin at the last moment, and he wanted to leave the cabin looking better – as well as more safely warded – than it had been when they’d arrived.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Cas was asking Amara about, exactly, but he knew that the angel would tell him later, so, for now, he put it out of his head and focused on the task before him.

***

Gabriel was distracted. He knew he needed to focus on doing a good job with the paint – Sam had given him very clear instructions not to do anything that would upset Donna – but he wanted to get back to Sam and make sure that Amara had done as promised. He didn’t particularly like Amara’s solution, but it was fair, and it got Lucifer and Michael out of Sam’s head, back in the Cage in Hell, and neutralized them in any upcoming spats with Chuck, so he’d accepted it.

But something was bugging him, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

And then it hit him.

Amara’s reason for giving Lucifer the choice of the Empty or the Cage in the first place had been to have the option of keeping the power of an Archangel in the universe, without having to recreate it, which only Chuck knew how to do. That meant that Lucifer and Michael both retained all of their power as Archangels, and they weren’t merely ‘memories with intent’ as Lucifer had been insisting. If Lucifer was lying about that, he could have been lying about everything, about the Mark, about being on their side, about Michael’s sanity – for if Lucifer had his powers, he could certainly make it appear that Michael was sane when in fact he was cuckoo. And there had been no real reason given for Michael’s supposed return to mental health, either.

All of which meant – Sam was in danger, and had only Shann to guard him. It wasn’t enough.

Gabe didn’t even bother to put the paint spreader down. He simply vanished.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh! 
> 
> Sorry (not sorry) about the double cliff-hanger! But hey, you got two chapters in under an hour! LOL
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment!  
> Love y'all! ;D


	157. We Have a Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel speaks privately with Amara; he doesn't learn much, then she leaves. Gabe materializes in the Bunker's kitchen and finds a confusing situation with Sam and Shann. Cas discovers that he is alone in the cabin, and that no one is answering their phones. Billie shows up, and tells Cas there's a problem.

Cas waited until the others had left the room, then turned to Amara. Before he could speak, she raised a hand.

“I assume this is about Dean? Surely you’ve noticed that light flaring by now, Castiel.”

Castiel nodded. “Of course. It’s flared brightly enough to get it on film, and once it was bright enough that even Dean noticed it. He’s starting to be able to control it a little, even. But I don’t know what it means. I have suspicions, but I can’t find anything solid to prove or disprove a theory. I was hoping….”

“That I would know what it meant? And would tell you?” Amara smiled.

“Well, yes.”

“Tell me what you suspect, and I’ll confirm or deny.”

“Well, I know it flares when Dean is happy, or when he makes a breakthrough – he’s in therapy – and we were given a message, that the light was important, that I wasn’t imagining it, and that ‘the light is the key,’ but we weren’t told what that meant, and I don’t know if it means it’s literally meant to unlock something, or if it’s just something important, like a key ingredient. Also, since the light began to grow stronger, Dean’s soul has changed color. I don’t know how, or why, or if that’s even relevant. But it used to be green, like his eyes, and now it’s white, with tiny flecks of blue. Like angel grace, only backward, because grace is blue with tiny flakes of white.”

“Okay, that’s what you _know_. What do you _suspect_?”

“I suspect that Dean is evolving somehow, but I don’t know how, or what he’s evolving into.”

“Not quite, no. He isn’t evolving, because that would mean he was becoming something new, and he isn’t. He’s merely – hmm, how to put it - _achieving a potential_ that only a very few manage.”

“What does that _mean_?”

“Certain humans have the potential to develop something within their souls. It isn’t evolution, because the potential is within all of them, always was – but only certain of them are able to develop it, and very few of them manage it. Dean has started to develop it. The fact that you say he’s been able to control it a little is promising. I really can’t say more than that, Castiel.

“And now, I need to be going. Good luck, nephew. And I expect an invitation to the wedding.” Amara smiled, and leaned in to hug Cas again. Then she vanished.

Cas left the dining room, frustrated, and went to find Dean.

***

“Sam?!” Gabriel yelled immediately upon materializing in the Bunker’s kitchen. “Sam? Shann! Where are you?” He staggered out into the War Room, and headed for the Library.

Shann walked out of the Library, followed closely by Sam.

“Whoa, Gabriel, we’re right here, we’re fine. What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“Um… Nothing, I guess. I was just… worried.”

“Why? Nothing’s going on here, we’ve just been hanging out, talking since you left.” Shann smiled.

“You’ve been talking this whole time?” Gabe looked perplexed.

“Well, yeah, it’s not like there’s much to do around here,” Sam said, and laughed.

“Yeah, Lebanon, Kansas, isn’t the most active hot spot for things to do, y’know.” Shann grinned.

“Well, no, but you both had work to do.” Gabe was convinced something wasn’t right. “You were so into doing that translation this morning, Shann, I would have thought you’d have gotten right back to it as soon as I left.”

Shann looked confused. “Translation? Gabe, you know I don’t know any languages other than English.”

Sam laughed. “And what would he be doing a translation of? _War and Peace_?”

Shann laughed. “I tried to read that in college, remember, Sam? Couldn’t get past Chapter Five. All those damn nicknames. And that was in English!”

Sam snorted with laughter. “Yeah, not Dostoyevsky’s best work, just his longest.”

“Sam, you just told me the other day how much you loved _War and Peace_.” Gabe was seriously confused. “And you knew Shann in college? Shann, you went to Stanford?”

“No. University of Kansas-Lawrence. With Sam.”

“C’mon, Gabe, you know that! Stanford? How would I have been able to afford an Ivy? Get real. With my high school record, always moving around from school to school, I’m lucky UK-L even accepted me on a part-time basis, so I could work my way through. Did you stop off and have a few too many drinks on your way here from work, buddy? You couldn’t wait until we started the game?” Sam poked Gabe in the shoulder.

Sam 

“Game?”

“Yeah, it’s poker night. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Sam laughed again.

“What? Sam, I live here, with you.”

“Uh, no, you don’t, and neither do I. This is Shann’s place. He inherited it from his uncle, and he lets us come over once a week, on Saturday nights, for pizza, beer, and poker. How drunk _are_ you, Gabe? Are you feeling okay?”

There was a knock on the door. “That’ll either be the pizza, or Charlie, with the beer. I’ll get it. You guys head into the Library, and I’ll be right there.” Shann headed toward the steps up to the door.

***

Cas couldn’t find anyone. He found the painting supplies, and the rooms in which they had been working, each roughly half-painted, but Dean and the other angels were simply gone.

Cas pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Dean’s number; it went direct to voice mail. “This is Dean’s other, other phone. You know what to do.” Cas didn’t bother to leave a message.

He next tried Sam’s number; it, too, went direct to voice mail. “Hi, this is Sam. Leave a message.” Cas hung up.

He next tried Gabriel’s phone; it, too, went direct to voice mail, but Gabe hadn’t set up his mailbox, and it wasn’t possible to leave a message. Cas hung up.

Castiel 

“Castiel, we have a problem.” He turned at the voice behind him, and saw Billie standing in the hallway. “I asked Shann to go into work today and babysit Sam. He did. I know that, because I have a reaper keeping an eye on Sam, but they have strict orders not to intervene – just hang out invisibly, observe, and report. So, when Shann arrived this morning, I got the word that he was there. When Gabriel, Hannah, and Balthazar left to come here, I got the word. But since then, nothing.

“When I tried to contact the reaper, I couldn’t reach her. So I went to the Bunker myself, but I can’t get in. Now, it’s never been warded so heavily that I couldn’t get myself or a reaper in before, but it is, now. I can’t even see the door. It’s _just_ a hillside, now – no steps, no concrete slab, no door, nothing but grass and a tree on a hill, next to a parking lot – in which Shann’s car is still parked. Shann and Sam don’t answer their phones.”

Cas nodded. “Dean, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Hannah all have vanished, as well. They were here, I was speaking privately with….”

“Amara. Yes, I’m aware. Reaper keeping tabs, remember? I knew about the meeting. That’s how I knew Sam would be alone today, and why I asked Shann to go in to work.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’d had our meeting, the others stepped out of the room, and Amara and I spoke privately. Then she left, and I went to speak with Dean, and I discovered that they were gone. They had been painting, to cover the wards – each of the four rooms in which they’d started is about half finished.”

“Well, the good news is, we know they’re not dead.”

“Pocket dimension. They’ve been pulled into a pocket dimension. Lucifer’s pulled Sam into one before.”

“But Sam would have had to have left the Bunker for Lucifer to be able to get him, and that’s what I told Shann, specifically, to prevent.”

“That assumes that it’s Lucifer who created the pocket dimension – or that Lucifer is still trapped in Sam’s head. Amara was going to remove Lucifer and Michael from Sam’s brain and move them to the Cage in Hell, that’s what our meeting was about, and she agreed to do it. She said by the time Gabriel got back to the Bunker, Lucifer and Michael would be out of Sam’s head and safely moved.”

“Maybe someone else moved them, first,” Billie suggested.

“Who else knows that Lucifer and Michael are in Sam’s head?”

“You told Balthazar and Hannah. Would they have said anything to anyone?”

“I doubt it. The Cosmic Entity specifically woke and returned the angels who were loyal to me.”

“Or that’s what you were told by the angels who returned.”

“What are you suggesting, Billie?”

“I think it might be time to have a chat with our Friendly Neighborhood Cosmic Entity.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh! UT OH!
> 
> Sorry! But hey, 3rd chapter in under 24 hours! Don't hurt me too much!
> 
> More art!
> 
> So... what do y'all think? Guesses? Comments? Suggestions (besides taking the author out to the woodshed for yet another cliffhanger)?
> 
> C'mon, guys, comments are proof of life! I want to know y'all are still alive out there! Don't leave me hanging like Cas calling cell phones! ;)


	158. What the Hell is Going On?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *How* many cabins?

Dean was pleased with the paint job in the bedroom he’d taken to repaint. He moved on to the next room, and got started. Balthazar looked in, saw that Dean had taken that room, and moved on to another. A few moments later, Hannah did the same. They all seemed to be working at roughly the same pace, Dean thought. Except he hadn’t seen Gabriel. Odd.

Dean finished his second bedroom, took a break and went to the bathroom. He checked on Balthazar and Hannah; their rooms were nearly complete, as well. He looked around for Gabriel, couldn’t find him, and figured he must have left the cabin to paint over the outside wards. The bedrooms finished, Hannah took the bathroom to paint, and Dean and Balthazar started in on the living room.

Dean checked his watch. Nearly 4:30, and the meeting had finished up at 1:15.

_What can Cas possibly be **still** discussing with Amara that is taking so damn long?_

Balthazar and Hannah moved on from the living room into the kitchen. They were nearly done. Dean finished the living room, and realized he was going to have to interrupt the conversation in the dining room, as it was the only room in the cabin still needing a paint job. He knocked, but there was no answer. He tried listening at the door, but heard…nothing. He pushed the door from the living room to the dining room open, and found the dining room empty.

_Where the Hell is Cas?_

“Balth? Hannah?” Dean went from the dining room directly into the kitchen; it was partially painted, but the angels were gone. Dean went back out into the living room from the kitchen, just in time to see Billie and Cas, their backs to him, vanish.

_**What the Hell is going on?** When did Billie arrive, what was she doing here, and where did she take **Cas**? And where did Balth and Hannah go?_

Dean pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Sam’s number, but it went direct to voice mail. He tried Gabe’s cell, but Gabe hadn’t set up his voice mail and no messages could be left. He tried Cas’ number, but there was no signal on Cas’ end. Considering he’d seen Cas vanish with Billie, _that was **not good**_.

Figuring he couldn’t leave Donna with the cabin as it was, Dean headed back into the kitchen and finished painting there. He stepped outside, and discovered that no one had yet painted over any of the outside wards, so he did that, as well. By the time he’d finished that, it was full dark, and he’d had to switch on the outside lights.

Dean went back into the cabin. He decided to stay another night. He didn’t know where the angels were, he couldn’t reach Sam, and it was better to stay in place until he could reach someone to let them know his plans.

Then he recalled that Billie had set reapers to watch over him and Sam, back when Apocalypse World’s Michael had possessed him. He wondered if a reaper was still on duty with him. The “evening shift” reaper’s name had been…

“Violet?” Dean called out.

Violet appeared. “Hello, Dean.”

“Violet, what’s going on?”

“I’m not entirely certain, Dean.”

“Billie and Cas just vanished as I stepped into the living room from the kitchen. Do you know where they were going?”

“I believe they mentioned going to talk to the Cosmic Entity, which would seem to indicate they were heading into the Empty.”

“Wait – Cas isn’t….”

“No! No, Cas is alive, Dean, he’s fine.”

“Do you know where Balthazar and Hannah are?”

“They’re in the kitchen.”

“I was just in there. They weren’t there.”

Violet nodded. “I know. But they’re in the kitchen, Dean. That’s where they are.”

Dean went back into the kitchen, which was empty. “Violet, they’re not here.”

“I know. The kitchen that _you_ are in is not the kitchen that _they_ are in.”

“I’m confused. There’s only one kitchen in this cabin, Violet.”

Violet 

“Dean, in fact, there are multiple cabins here, overlapping in multiple universes that are starting to run together. I have the ability to see some of them, but can only stand in one at a time. You’ve been able to move back and forth between a couple of them.”

“I’m confused,” Dean repeated.

“Understandably,” Violet agreed, nodding. “When God was busy creating multiple universes, sometimes he didn’t bother to move. He just made a new one that overlapped the original. That way, he didn’t have to move around as much; he said it was more _efficient_. But now, some of those universes are bleeding together. Certain entities are now able to see more than one; some entities can move from one to another without the need for a rift or door in the space-time continuum. I can see more than one; you, Dean, appear to be able to move between them, but can only see one at a time.”

“How is that possible, Violet?” Dean scoffed.

“Dean, I don’t know how to explain it. You just can, okay? Every entity has their limits; our limits differ, that’s all.”

“Can Balthazar and Hannah move from one universe to another?”

“It appears not.”

“How do I get back to the universe that they’re in?”

“Retrace your steps, Dean.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where were you when you last saw them?”

“I was in the living room.”

“And what did you do next? Where did you go?”

“Into the dining room.” Dean started to head toward the dining room, but Violet stopped him. “You have to go backward, Dean, not forward through the same order you went before. I don’t know where you’ll end up if you keep going the same direction. You have to go in _reverse_ to get back to where you _were_.”

“Oh, right. Okay. So, from the dining room, I went into the kitchen, then into the living room.”

“Okay. So, go from the living room into the kitchen, into the dining room, and back into the living room, and you should then be back in the same universe with Balthazar and Hannah. Hold on, I’ll come with you, just to be sure we don’t end up somewhere different.”

Dean nodded, and followed the trail that Violet had set out. Once back in the living room, he looked into the kitchen, and there were Balthazar and Hannah. The kitchen was painted, and they were sipping on cups of coffee.

“Hey, Dean,” Hannah greeted him.

***

Gabe determined that the Sam he was speaking to was _not_ , in fact, his Sam, and that he was _not_ , in fact, in his own universe, when he asked about Dean’s whereabouts and was told, by a _very_ upset Sam, that he knew very well that Dean had _died_ five years prior. He excused himself to the bathroom, and teleported back to the cabin from there, landing in the living room. He was disturbed, but not terribly surprised, to find the cabin empty.

Except it wasn’t, because within a minute, Dean opened the door from the dining room to the living room, and beckoned to him. Gabe followed Dean, and they ended up in the kitchen – where Balthazar, Hannah, and a reaper that Gabe didn’t know were waiting.

“Um, why is there a reaper here?” Gabe asked.

“Gabe, this is Violet. Billie’s had her observing me since Apocalypse World’s Michael possessed me.”

“Not just me, I just have the evening shift. Nice to meet you, Gabriel,” Violet offered her hand. Gabe ignored it.

“What’s going on? I was just at the Bunker, and Sam isn’t Sam, and Shann isn’t Shann.” Gabriel’s face was stormy.

“Apparently, God created multiple universes in essentially the same place, to save him time going from one to the next, and now some of them are bleeding into one another. So, this cabin is actually multiple cabins, and if you go through the dining room in the direction we just came, you go from one to another.”

“Where’s Cas?” Gabe asked.

“Apparently, he got stuck in a different universe, and Billie came and got him. Violet says they were talking about talking to the Cosmic Entity – she can see the different universes, no matter which one she’s standing in.”

“What else did they say, Violet?”

“Billie said that she hadn’t heard from the reaper keeping an eye on Sam since you three angels left the Bunker this morning. So she’d gone to try to check up on Sam and Shann, and couldn’t get in – the Bunker was not only warded against Death for the first time, she couldn’t even see any part of it, not even the door – it was just a hillside. So she came here to see what or who she might find, and all she found was Cas.”

“I’m lucky I didn’t materialize in dirt or concrete, then, when I blinked in to the Bunker. It wasn’t warded against me, but Sam and Shann were completely different versions of themselves – and in that universe, Dean, you died five years ago, and Charlie is still alive. The three of them, and me, have poker nights on Saturday. I don’t believe they were expecting Castiel.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm! Verrrry in-ter-est-ing!
> 
> More art! Four chapters in 24 hours! ;) 
> 
> Please comment! :D


	159. Gathering Intel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Shann take a break. Gabe, Dean, Balthazar, Hannah, and Violet discuss next steps; Balthazar goes up to Heaven, and Violet goes to Hell, to find out what's known about why the various universes are suddenly bleeding into each other. Gabe, Dean and Hannah wait anxiously at the cabin for the others' return.

Sam looked up from the text he’d been translating from Ancient Canaanite and rubbed his eyes briefly, then glanced at his watch.

_5:00 already? How’d that happen?_

“Hey, Shann. Take a break, man, you’ve been staring at your text for hours, just like I have at mine. Let’s get up, take a walk, get some caffeine.”

“Yeah, okay. I could use some more coffee.” Shann rose and picked up his mug. Together, they headed to the kitchen. 

Sam filled his mug with the coffee in the pot, but Shann resolutely refused to drink the sludge remaining after the dregs of the pot had cooked down to a thick, viscous liquid vaguely resembling tar more than coffee; he rinsed the pot a couple of times, then filled it to make fresh, and winced, when he noticed Sam was actually drinking what he had poured in his mug. 

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I know, but it’s kinda what I’m used to. We didn’t have a lot of money, growing up. If there was _any_ coffee made, you drank it, rather than wasting it. I get that fresh is better, and I’m not blaming you at all, it’s just that I no longer mind the taste of nuclear waste.”

“Sam, that’s just… sad.” Shann grinned. “It’s not like we’re going to run out of ground coffee anytime soon, what with Dean buying it in bulk. That might be one habit you need to shake, man.”

Sam grinned back. “Yeah, probably. Hey, I’m gonna try to call Gabe, see where he is and why he’s not back yet. Do you need to take off, Shann?”

“Nope. I told Gabe that I would stay until he got back, and I told Billie that I wouldn’t leave you alone. Gabe’s not back, and if I left, you’d be alone. Hence, this is me, not leaving. I am, however, going to the bathroom.”

“Good idea.” Sam dialed Gabe’s number as Shann headed down the hall. It went straight to voice mail, but Gabe hadn’t yet set his voice mail up, so no message could be left. Sam tried Dean’s phone, but it went straight to voice mail as well. “This is Dean’s other, other phone. You know what to do.” He didn’t bother leaving a message, but tried Cas’ phone; that went nowhere, and he got the phone company’s message stating that the cell phone user was out of range.

_Out of range? But he should be with Dean. Weird._

***

Gabe was frantically trying to reach Sam’s phone, but it kept going straight to voice mail: “This is Sam. Please leave a message.” He left a message the first time - “Hey, it’s me, call me or Dean, ASAP!” - but after that, as soon as the outgoing voice mail message started, he simply ended the call and tried again. “C’mon, Sam, pick up!” he muttered.

Meanwhile, Dean was trying Shann’s phone, with similar results - until suddenly he got the phone company’s message stating that the cell phone user was out of range. Dean tried Cas’ phone, and got the same ‘out of range’ message.

“Guys, I don’t like the current implications of Shann and Cas both being ‘out of range’ of their cell phone coverage.” 

Gabe stopped frantically re-dialing. “I’m gonna try to go back to the Bunker - but not to land inside it, but just outside, by Shann’s car. See what I see. If I can get in, I will, and if not, I’ll walk around and see what I see. Either way, I’ll call. If I don’t call within an hour, try my phone, Dean. If you don’t get me, if you get an ‘out of range’ message….”

“Then you likely ended up in another universe. I dunno, Gabe, maybe you should stay here for now. At least this way, we know where you are.”

“Dean, I can’t just sit here. I shouldn’t have left Sam. I don’t know where he is, and it’s….”

“I get it, Gabe. It’s bad, I know. I’m worried, too, man, I’ve spent my entire life taking care of him, okay? I get it. But you’re of no help if you get zapped to a different universe where we can’t find you. No help to us, and no help to Sam. We need you here, Gabe.” Dean laid his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. He knew Gabe was panicking, and a panicking Archangel wasn’t good for anyone. “Anything on Angel Radio, guys? About multiple universes or disappearances that make no sense?”

All three angels paused to try to listen, then all three shook their heads in the negative. “Either Heaven hasn’t taken notice, or it’s not being affected.”

“Is the gate at the playground the only way upstairs?” Dean asked.

“In our vessels, yes. We _can_ vacate our vessels and ascend, so long as Heaven is open, as it is now - but it’s usually more convenient to just stay in them and go through the gate. Particularly for me, and Cas, as we have modified vessels - mine created for me by Loki, and Cas’ rebuilt for him by God after Stull Cemetery.”

“Mine is modified, too.” Hannah noted. “I had sworn to never take another human’s form as a vessel, but when the Cosmic Entity woke me in the Empty, I was in the form of the vessel I had used for so long on Earth - but I checked, and Caroline - the woman who previously allowed me to use her body - is still alive, and with her husband, Joe. This vessel is identical, but apparently was created specifically for me by the Cosmic Entity.”

“Mine, as well. I think probably all of the angels who had previously died and were brought back are now in modified vessels, created by the Cosmic Entity,” Balthazar surmised.

“Could you leave your vessel here, ascend briefly, come right back here, and re-assume it? If it’s modified and has no human host, there’s no problem with having to regain consent, right?” Dean inquired.

“I suppose one of us could try, yes,” Gabe said.

“I’ll go,” Balthazar volunteered. “I’m the least useful angel on this plane. If I can’t get back to my vessel because the universe shifts, it’s not that great a loss.”

“Yes, it is,” Dean told him, quietly. “Don’t undersell yourself, Balth. Cas relies on you, and on Hannah.”

Dean 

Balthazar smiled. “You _have_ gotten lighter, Dean.” He seated himself in one of the chairs around the kitchen table, then the body slumped; a bright light shone briefly, then rose up, and disappeared through the ceiling.

“Violet, Billie told Sam and I that Rowena is on the throne as Queen of Hell; can you confirm that?” Gabe asked.

“I can, yes.” Violet nodded.

“Could you go down, and ask her what she knows about the multiple universe situation? Why they’re suddenly bleeding together? And then come back here?” Dean asked. “I know you’re supposed to be impartial and just observe, but this is a weird situation, and we need all the info we can get. And of all of us, you’re the only one who can travel in and out of Hell without repercussions.”

Violet considered this. “Yes. I think this is something within my purview, actually. And as I can see across at least a few of the universes, I’ll be able to see where you are when I get back, and hopefully find the right one, with you in it. This shouldn’t take long. Any message to pass along?”

Dean smiled. “Just tell Rowena that I said thank you, and we miss her.”

“WIll do. Be right back.” Violet vanished.

“Gabe, can you go out and finish removing the outdoor warding? Or would you rather wait on that, for now?” Dean asked.

“Let’s wait. We might still need it.” Gabe looked rather grim.

Gabe 

“Okay. Just a thought. Did we finish repainting all the rooms inside?”

“Yes, we did,” Hannah confirmed.

“I would try calling Amara, but I don’t have her number; Cas had it. Do either of _you_ have her number?” Dean asked the angels.

“I don’t, no.” Gabe crossed the room to start a fresh pot of coffee.

“Actually, I _do_ have it,” Hannah said. “She gave it to me in Reno, to give to Cas. She scribbled it on a piece of paper, but I didn’t want to chance losing it, so I added her to my contacts. Here.” She handed her cell phone to Dean.

Dean dialed Amara’s number. It went straight to voice mail. “You’ve reached the voice mail of Amara. Either you know who I am and what to do, or you should hang up, now.” Dean left a brief message asking for a return call, and left his own cell phone number. Then he ended the call, and returned the phone to Hannah.

“Coffee, guys?” Gabe offered. Both Dean and Hannah accepted it, though neither had need of caffeine to stay awake, unnerved as they all were by the situation. There was nothing more they could do now, but wait.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep!
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment!!!
> 
> [By the way, my PC died in a *boom* - the power supply, which was old, quite literally exploded, and took the hard drive - and the almost 3/4ths of this chapter that I had written already - with it. I'm using my hubby's laptop at the moment, but I hate typing on this thing, and it doesn't have MSWord, just Google docs. Hopefully, I should have the new PC delivered tomorrow, and up and running by early next week. I may try to put out one more chapter this week, but if it doesn't happen, that's why. *sigh* Sorry!]


	160. Waiting Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe is freaking out a bit; Dean gives him a reason to stay calm, and at the cabin. Dean journals to pass the time.

“Dean? We need to talk.” Gabe approached and spoke quietly; Hannah was reading a book in the living room, while Dean had come into the kitchen for yet another cup of coffee, and a sandwich. He didn’t need the caffeine - he was wired as it was - and he wasn’t at all hungry, but he knew he’d need to keep his strength up. Despite Violet and Balthazar’s assurances that it wouldn’t take long for their respective missions in Heaven and Hell, they’d both been gone for hours.

“Yeah, what’s up, Gabe?”

“Dean, before I went back to the Bunker, I realized something. It’s why I left without saying something, without finishing the outdoor ward removal.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What?”

“Amara’s previously stated reason for giving Lucifer the choice of the Empty or the Cage in the first place was to have the option of keeping the power of an Archangel in the universe, without having to recreate it, which only Chuck knew how to do. That meant that Lucifer and Michael both retained all of their power as Archangels, and they aren’t merely ‘memories with intent’ as Lucifer has been insisting. I realized that if Lucifer was lying about  _ that _ , he could have been lying about  _ everything _ , about the Mark, about being on our side, about Michael’s sanity – for if Lucifer has his powers, he could certainly make it appear that Michael is sane when in fact he’s cuckoo, and they didn’t really give us a real reason for Michael’s supposed return to mental health, either. All of which potentially means that Sam could be in danger, and has only Shann to guard him. That’s not enough. That’s why I still think our best play is for me to try to get into the Bunker again - to land out by Shann’s car, and try to go in through the door.”

Dean shook his head. “I still think it’s better for you to stay here, Gabe. We don’t know that there’s anything wrong with Sam, and we do know that you ended up in another universe the last time you tried to get to the Bunker. Just landing outside might not be enough of a safeguard, and we can’t afford to lose you to an alternate universe. And remember, Cas thought Lucifer was telling the truth after touch-reading him, so what you’re thinking might be the case might not be true. No, Gabe, I know you’re worried, and I love you for it, but Sam needs you to stay calm, and stay safe. This is what he meant when he told you he didn’t want you taking unnecessary risks for him, okay? He wouldn’t want you to try riding to the rescue, if it meant he could lose you forever.”

Dean 

Gabe nodded slowly in defeat. He sat wearily at the kitchen table, and lowered his head to his hands. Dean gripped his shoulder in solidarity for a moment, then poured him a mug of coffee, and set it on the table for him.

***

Another hour passed. Since there wasn’t much else he could do, Dean decided to write in his journal while waiting. He collected his notebook, made sure he could still see Gabe and Hannah where they were sitting in the kitchen, seated himself at the writing desk in the living room, turned to a blank page, uncapped his pen, and began.

***

**_Saturday Evening_ **

_ After I wrote last night, Cas and I watched a movie. I guess I fell asleep toward the end of it, because I woke up in bed this morning, still fully dressed except for my boots, and Cas said he’d carried me into the bedroom and tucked me in. I woke up feeling pretty good, rested. Cas said he hadn’t really been sleeping yesterday, just resting his eyes, and that he was fully charged, ready to go.  _

_ He told me there were some things he wanted to discuss privately with Amara - theories he had about the light that were a little too “out there” to tell me, unless they turned out to be correct, and he wanted to have her confirm or deny them, if he could get her to do it. He promised to tell me, one way or the other, after they’d spoken, and I told him that I trust him, and agreed to wait until after their discussion.  _

_ Cas had gotten up early, and made coffee, so there was fresh brew waiting in the pot when we got up. He didn’t want food, so I just scrambled an egg and made a slice of toast for myself, after my shower.  _

_ Then we got busy with warding the place - busier still after Gabe, Balthazar, and Hannah showed up. Balth and Hannah helped me and Cas to paint the inside wards, while Gabe went around outside, checked the warding Cas had put up last night, and augmented it a bit. We were finished in time for me to have a sandwich before Amara arrived; the angels weren’t up for food. _

_ We had our meeting with Amara, and it went fine, on the surface, at least; she agreed to remove Lucifer and Michael from Sam’s head, and to remove them to the Cage in Hell, modified as it has been already to no longer be a torture device, and to further modify it so even Chuck can’t release them from it. She wouldn’t agree to let them help us, but she wouldn’t agree to let them help Chuck, either, so that’s something, I guess. She really is trying to remain neutral.  _

_ Then Cas asked to speak with her privately, and I and Gabe, Balthazar, and Hannah, started the process of repainting the cabin to paint over the wards, leaving them in place, but invisible. We had nearly finished painting, and I realized that I was going to have to interrupt Cas and Amara in order to paint in the dining room, where we’d had the meeting. I couldn’t imagine what they still had to talk about - it had been hours since the meeting had broken up. But when I knocked and went in, they were gone. _

_ Apparently right around that same point in time, Gabe had an epiphany of his own - he realized that Amara’s reason for giving Lucifer the choice of the Empty or the Cage in the first place had been to have the option of keeping the power of an Archangel in the universe, without having to recreate it, which only Chuck knew how to do. That meant that Lucifer and Michael both retained all of their power as Archangels, and they weren’t merely ‘memories with intent’ as Lucifer has been insisting. If Lucifer was lying about that, he could have been lying about everything, about the Mark, about being on their side, about Michael’s sanity – for if Lucifer had his powers, he could certainly make it appear that Michael was sane, when, in fact, he was still loony, and no real reason has ever been given for Michael’s supposed return to mental health, either. All of which, Gabe realized, meant that Sam could be in danger, and had only Shann to guard him. It wasn’t enough. _

_ So, Gabe tried to fly to the Bunker, to get to Sam - but what he actually found was an alternate universe, where: Shann had inherited the Bunker from his deceased uncle, and invited Gabe, Sam, and Charlie Bradbury over for poker every Saturday night; Sam never went to Stanford, and hadn’t hired Shann, but knew him from going to a local college in Lawrence, Kansas, with him; and I had died, five years ago. Gabe excused himself, went to the bathroom, and then flew back here. _

_ While Gabe was off on that adventure, I was discovering that after I stepped into the dining room, Balthazar and Hannah, who had been painting the kitchen, had disappeared. I came from the dining room, through the kitchen, into the living room - just in time to see Cas and Billie, their backs to me so they didn’t see me, vanish. I couldn’t find Balth, Hannah, or, of course, Gabe, but I remembered that Billie had assigned reapers to watch over me and Sam back when I was possessed by the Apocalypse World’s Michael, and so I called out to Violet, the “evening shift” reaper, and she appeared. She was able to explain that there are multiple overlapping universes that essentially occupy the same space, though only certain entities, like God, can normally see them, and that now, for some reason unknown to Violet, they had started “bleeding” into each other, such that certain entities could now see multiple universes, as Violet now could, and some could step across the boundaries of them and end up in another universe without even realizing it - without a rift or door.  _

_ She said that Balth and Hannah were in the kitchen. I went into the kitchen; they weren’t there. Violet explained that this cabin is actually several overlapping cabins each in a separate universe, and that the kitchen that I was in wasn’t in the same cabin that Balth and Hannah were in; I had to retrace my steps, going in reverse order, to get back to the universe where they were. I did that, and found them. _

_ Shortly after that, Gabe returned, but he arrived in the universe from which Cas and Billie had vanished, so Violet could see him, and alerted me to his presence. I retraced my steps back there, and got him, bringing him back to where Balth and Hannah were waiting, so that we were all in the same place. Violet told all of us that Cas and Billie went to speak with the Cosmic Entity, but Cas wasn’t dead, he’s fine. After some discussion, and an attempt to listen in to Angel Riado, we decided that Balth would leave his vessel here and ascend to Heaven, to find out what was known upstairs about the multiple universes suddenly starting to bleed together, and that Violet would go down to Hell and speak with Rowena, who apparently became the Queen of Hell (good for Ro), to see if she knew anything about it.  _

_ We didn’t think it would take all that long for any of them to get back, but it’s been hours, and Gabe is starting to quietly lose it. He holds himself responsible for Sam, and if anything happens, it might just break him. I have to remember that he’s still fragile from what Asmodeus did to him, and from dying; he’s not the arrogant cocky daredevil Trickster Archangel he used to be, though he tries to hide it. I can see what having to wait, powerless to help Sam, is doing to him. He wants to try to go to the Bunker, to land outside and try to get in, but I have to keep reminding him that Sam needs him in this universe, and the chance of him getting lost in another and not being able to get back is too great. I know it’s the only thing keeping him here. I know it’s eating him alive, and I feel for him, but I can’t let him go haring off - Sam would never forgive either of us. _

_ So, we sit, and we wait.  _

***

_ Dear Dean, _

_ You’re 28 years old, and Jake Tapper has just sliced through Sam’s kidneys and spinal chord with a hunting knife. Sam bleeds out in your arms, and you feel him die. You can’t accept it. Your whole life has been about protecting Sam, and now you’re failed, and he’s gone. No. There has to be a way. And there is, you realize. If John could make a demon-deal for you,  _ **_you_ ** _ can make one for  _ **_Sam_ ** _. You know how to summon a crossroads demon. _

_ You have to wait until it’s possible for you to ditch Bobby - you realize he suspects you might try this, and will stop you, if he can - but you manage it, eventually. The demon who appears gives you a hard time, and she won’t give you the standard ten years. Ultimately, she agrees to bring Sam back, but you get only one year in which to settle your affairs. You consider it well worth it. _

_ You hide it from everyone, but Bobby figures it out and confronts you with it. “He’s my brother,” you say, as if Sam is the only thing that matters - and to you, it is. But Bobby loves you both, and, while he’s glad Sam’s back, he doesn’t hesitate to tell you what an idjit he thinks you are. “How’d you feel, knowing your daddy died for you? How’s Sam supposed to feel when he finds out you went to Hell for him?” All you can think to say is, “You can’t tell him.” _

_ You manage to keep Sam in the dark for a long time, too; but eventually, he figures it out as well, and confronts you with it, and you have to tell him the truth. He becomes consumed with trying to find a way to get you out of the deal, but eventually, the Hellhound comes for you.  _

_ You’re dead for four months - which, in Hell time, which runs faster, is forty years - before being rescued from the Pit by Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. For the first 30 of the 40 years, you’re on the rack, being tortured by Alastair, Hell’s Grand Inquisitor himself. Every day, he tears you down to nothing, then rebuilds you, and, as he rebuilds you, he subtly changes you, adding false memories that condition you to eventually take the deal he offers each day - that if you’ll agree to torture others, you can get off the rack yourself. You refuse the deal each day, refusing to give Alastair the satisfaction.  _

_ Until the last day of the last year of 30 years, when Alastair seems to change, comes to you with what seems like honest kindness, like he’s just too tired to keep being mean - and he alters the deal slightly. You can get down off the rack, and not be tortured anymore, if you agree to Alastair’s terms. He’ll continue to be gentle and kind, if you agree, first, to torture others, and second, to be his sex slave/pet. As long as you are obedient, you won’t be punished, and you’ll only be punished by Alastair himself - no other demons - if you fail to obey his commands. You’re so in need of gentleness, a kind touch, that it seduces you, and you give in. You agree to his terms. You torture others, and you become Alastair’s apprentice torturer by day, his slave by night.  _

_ Of course, the deal is a lie - he constantly sets you up to fail, demanding things of you that you cannot possibly supply, in order to be able to continue to punish you. He’s never actually gentle or kind to you again. But you have the impossible hope that if you beg, if you try, you’ll be rewarded, so you do try. You do beg. You beg your Master to use you, to punish you, to rid you of the flaws for which he punishes you, so that you won’t need to be punished. You beg to be punished for those flaws. And of course, he does punish you. Right up until Castiel finally rescues you - ten years (in Hell time) later. _

_ You don’t know it’s Cas, then. You wake up buried, six feet deep, in a pine box. You don’t know where you are, how you got there, or how much time has passed. You struggle out of the grave, and walk until you find a gas station / convenience store that’s closed. You grab a bottle of water and down it. You see the date on a newspaper, and learn that four months have passed, and it’s now September. You take some money from the register, and as you’re cleaning it out, the radio switches on, then the television behind the counter does the same, both playing static. There’s a high-pitched ringing noise that quickly becomes unbearable. You hit the floor as the windows and all the glass in the place shatter around you. As quickly as it started, the noise stops, and the radio and TV switch back off. You shake your head to clear it.  _

_ You find a phone booth outside, and drop a dime to call Bobby, but, of course, he doesn’t believe it’s really you. You see a car parked next to the store building, and hotwire it. You drive to Bobby’s, but showing up on his doorstep doesn’t make him believe it’s really you, either. He suspects that you’re a shapeshifter, or a revenant - until you cut your arm with a silver knife to show him you’re not. He splashes you with holy water, just in case, but when you just wipe your eyes, a tad annoyed, but with no other ill effects, he finally believes, and gives you a hug. “Damn glad to see ya, boy.” _

_ And that encapsulates your relationship with Bobby, doesn’t it? You’re gone, dead, in Hell, for four months, and as soon as you’re able to prove it’s really you, he simply accepts that you’re back, and is glad to see you, no other questions asked. Of course, he wants to know what happened, but he accepts it when you tell him that you don’t know how you got out. It’s you. He trusts you and believes in you, absolutely.  _

_ This is all to point up the contrast between your relationship with Bobby, on the one hand, and John, on the other. John gave you the crumbs of his attention, almost none of his care, never really trusted you, and never acted like he believed in you. Bobby never held back from caring for you, showed you exactly how he felt about you, always trusted you, and always believed in you.  _

_ John was the sperm donor who dragged you around and neglected you. Bobby was the father you needed, and thank goodness for him. Just remember that a lot of what you think you remember about John right now, at 29, fresh out of Hell, isn’t true, but rather was implanted, false memories, courtesy of Alastair. Try not to judge either John or yourself too harshly. _

_ Bobby helped you summon Castiel. The first time you met Cas, you stabbed him with Ruby’s demon-killing knife, thinking he was some kind of demonic monster. It had no affect whatsoever; Cas simply pulled it out, looked at it, vaguely amused, and told you “we need to talk, Dean.” That was the start of a beautiful relationship, but it took the two of you eleven years to pull your heads out and admit your feelings for each other. _

_ Dean, at 41, I’m no less a hothead than I was - you are - at 29; no less rash or impulsive. But falling in love with Cas wasn’t impulsive. Admitting my feelings for him wasn’t rash. I really wish Bobby could be here to see us finally together, and happy. I know he’d be pleased. I think 29-year-old me - you - would be, too. _

_ Dean _

***

Dean recapped the pen and slide it and the notebook back into his duffel. 

_ Where is Cas, and why is it taking so long for everyone to get back here? Did we lose them to some alternate universe? _

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Gabe. 
> 
> More progress for Dean, though. ;D What do you think of Dean's letters to himself at younger ages?
> 
> More art! :)
> 
> [Still on the laptop. Got a new cell phone, hate it. Got a new - well, refurbished, but new to me - PC, but the idiot who refurbished it covered the back plug in plugs with a face plate, so I can't plug in my monitor or printer. Hubby is trying to resolve that issue. *rolls eyes* So, not back on the PC quite yet, but it's coming soon, I hope!]


	161. Ut Oh....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann ends up in an alternate universe but finds his way back with the assistance of Sam's reaper-observer, Alicia. While retracing his steps, he grabs the text and research notes from where he had been sitting in the library. Balthazar speaks with Inias in Heaven, then departs. Inias decides to close Heaven unless and until Castiel calls the angels to help in the situation they were brought back to deal with - the fight with God. Violet speaks with Rowena, who manages to indicate, non-verbally, that all is not well in Hell. Cas and Billie are walking in the Empty, but there's no sign of the Cosmic Entity. Violet asks Gabriel to help with whatever it is Rowena's so afraid of, but Gabe can't handle a return to Hell's throne room. Cas and Billie meet up with Lucifer, who is without the Mark, and Cas realizes that if Lucifer is in The Empty, then Sam is in danger.

Shann returned from the bathroom to the library, expecting Sam to be sitting back in his seat; he wasn’t. Shann went back to the kitchen; no Sam. 

“Sam? Where are you?”

A young woman appeared in front of him. “Hello, Shann.”

“Angel?” he asked.

She smiled. “Not your first supernatural materialization, good. No. I’m a reaper. I work for Billie. I keep an eye on Sam for her. My name is Alicia. Don’t worry about Sam, he’s fine for the moment, at least; but  _ you  _ actually are not. When you went to the bathroom, you stepped into another universe. There’s something odd going on just now, and for some unknown reason, multiple universes that exist in the same overlapping space are bleeding together. I can explain a little further, but first, you need to get back to the proper universe, where you belong. To do that, I need you to retrace your steps in reverse. From here, go back to the library, then to the bathroom, then back to the kitchen. You should find Sam, and myself, there. Please, go now, and hurry.” Alicia disappeared.

Shann went back into the library, and turned to leave again, but at the last second, had a thought, and grabbed the book and research notes from the table where he’d been working earlier. Then he retraced his steps, back to the kitchen. 

***

“Ok. Thank you, Balthazar. We’ll let you know if we find out anything more.” Inias smiled at the light glowing in front of him, which bobbed once, then sank through the floor and disappeared.

“What do you want us to do, Inias?” another angel asked.

Inias sighed. “Close the gates. We don’t have room for souls from alternate universes. If the overlap bleed-through is only occurring on Earth so far, it won’t be a problem here if we just keep everyone out. For now.”

“What about Castiel? The Cosmic Entity only brought us back because of our loyalty to him.”

“Of course I’m loyal to Castiel, but this emergency isn’t the situation for which we were brought back. We were brought back to support him in dealing with God. And we will. But until he calls us for  _ that  _ fight, we stand down, and we close the gates. No one else in or out. And Angel Radio goes silent, unless and until Castiel calls on it.”

***

“And how are the Winchesters?” Rowena looked down from her throne at Violet, and smiled.

“They’re well, although at the moment, Dean can’t reach Sam, and he’s understandably a bit upset. Dean asked me to come down and ask you what, if anything, you know about why the multiple overlapping universes are suddenly bleeding into one another. He also asked me to tell you that he says ‘thank you’ and that he and Sam miss you.”

“Ahh. Such a sweet boy. Well, thank you for delivering Dean’s message, but I have no information about overlapping universes. I don’t know a thing. You can tell him, from me, that I had nothing to do with it, and know nothing about it. And if you all do learn anything about it, I’d appreciate an update. Now, scamper off, reaper. I have things to do.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I have no wish to be disrespectful. I know what you did in the cemetery - I was there, watching over Dean - and I know that you saved the world. And I appreciate it. But I have to tell you that I don’t believe you when you claim to have no information about this.”

“Well, my dear, I’m afraid that what  _ you  _ believe is not  _ my  _ concern. I’ve told you that I know nothing, and that’s true. Now, I suggest you leave.” Rowena straightened her skirt primly, and looked away.

Violet shook her head. “No. There’s something going on. You know more than you’re saying. You’re afraid. What are you afraid of, Rowena?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I”m the Queen of Hell. Nothing frightens me!” Rowena’s voice thundered; her eyes, though, darted from side to side, and Violet saw it.

Violet gave a tiny nod, and Rowena allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. Rowena was clutching her hands in her lap, and she subtly pointed to the corner of the room behind her and to her right. Violet gave another tiny nod, and Rowena relaxed. 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Violet said. “I wonder, though, if you would say the same to an Archangel.”

“And do you have one in your pocket, that you plan to surprise me with?” Rowena give a tinkly laugh. “The Archangels are all dead. So, unless you reaped one and took it on to the Empty, deciding to steal it on the way, I don’t see how that’s supposed to be a valid threat, my dear. I think, perhaps, you need to leave now.”

Violet gave a grim nod, bowed, and vanished.

***

Cas and Billie were walking in the Empty. It felt like they’d been walking for hours, in fact, but they’d seen nothing of the Cosmic Entity.

“Hello? We know you’re here somewhere. We need to talk to you.” Cas shouted.

Behind them, the blackness of the “floor” started to bubble up and form a shape.

Castiel 

***

“Gabriel, I need your help.” Violet appeared suddenly in the kitchen, startling Gabe and Hannah. 

“With what? Where have you been?” Gabe asked.

“I was in Hell. I was only gone, what, five minutes?”

“More like _ six hours _ . What’s going on, Violet?”

Dean came in from the living room. “Violet, you’re back. What took so long?”

“I… I don’t know. To me, it felt like I was only gone five minutes. I spoke with Rowena. Verbally, she said she knows nothing, but from her non-verbal cues, I learned that there’s something happening in Hell, something she’s afraid to speak of, and she needs help. There’s something in the far corner of the Throne Room, that’s threatening to her. I accused her of lying, and asked if she would say the same to an Archangel, at which point she looked relieved. I think she believes that you’d have the power to deal with whatever it is that she can’t talk about, Gabriel.”

“But does it have to do with the multiple universes, or is this just some other crisis of Rowena’s that she thinks she can’t deal with alone?” Dean asked. “She tends to get in over her head.”

“I think it does have to do with the multiple universe situation, from the way she was acting when we were talking about that, specifically. I can’t be certain, of course, but I got the distinct impression that she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.”

Dean nodded. “Gabe, can you help Rowena?”

Gabe paled. “Dean, you know that normally I’d be willing, but… I don’t think I can handle being in Hell’s throne room again. Not after Asmodeus.”

***

Billie stopped suddenly, and put her hand on Castiel’s arm. “Do you feel that?”

“What? The feeling that we’re being followed? Yes.”

Billie nodded. Together, they turned. 

“We know you’re there. Please, come speak with us.” Billie peered into the darkness.

A shape stepped forward, and resolved into the form of… Lucifer.

Lucifer 

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” He put his hands in his pockets, and rocked from his heels to his toes, then back.

Castiel peered at him. “Lucifer? Is that  _ you _ ?”

“Yup. It’s me. The  _ real _ me,  _ sans  _ the Mark, which suddenly disappeared a while back. I don’t really know how long ago that was, there’s no real way to keep time here.”

“But, if you’re  _ here… _ .” Castiel turned to Billie. “We have to get to the Bunker. _Now_.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots to process!   
> Will Shann's collection of the text and notes from the library of the alternate universe lead to a discovery?  
> Will Inias' decision to close Heaven again be a problem?  
> What is Rowena so afraid of?  
> With Asmodeus dead, why is Gabe so reluctant to return to Hell to help?  
> How did Lucifer - with or without the Mark - end up in the Empty?  
> Hmmmm!  
> Please comment!!  
> More art!  
> [Still on the laptop, hopefully getting a NEW new PC (since the refurbished 'new' one that we bought last week did not work out) in the next day or so!]


	162. Yet Another Lucifer...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann, Sam, and Alicia have a chat. Billie and Cas speak with the Lucifer in the Empty.

Shann re-entered the kitchen, and found Sam and Alicia. 

“Okay, can we get a better explanation now?” he asked, in what he considered a rather reasonable tone of voice for someone who had unwittingly been to an alternate universe. Shann poured himself another mug of coffee, and sat down at the kitchen table.

Sam held a chair out for Alicia, and asked if she’d like a cup of coffee.

“No, thank you, Sam. We never eat or drink while on duty.” She seated herself, and waited for Sam to do the same. Once he was seated as well, she began. 

“When God created the universes - _our_ universe, first, we think, and then others, later - he didn’t spread them out. He wanted to be able to step from one to another with a minimum of effort, so he built them one on top of another, overlapping, but in a way that only a very few entities could even see, much less move between them. God and Amara can move between them with a thought, but most other entities need a rift, or a doorway. You all discovered that alternate universes existed when Jack’s birth brought one such rift into being. 

“Reapers have our own private means of communication; it’s similar to Angel Radio for the angels. It’s been busy this afternoon. We don’t know why, but it appears that, this afternoon, the walls that God put up between the universes to keep them separate started to come down here and there. The overlapping is now obvious to some of us - reapers, in particular, can see across the boundaries, into the other universes that exist, and though we can’t actually move between them, we can show ourselves to entities in the others, as I showed myself to you, Shann.

“Violet, Dean’s reaper-observer, left her post and went to Hell to try to find out if Rowena knew anything about why the multiple universes are suddenly bleeding together. She returned a short time ago, and let the rest of us know a couple of things that she discovered.

“First, Hell time is now moving much more slowly than Earth time, which is a reversal of the normal scheme of things. You’ll recall, Sam, when Dean went to Hell; he was dead for four months, but in Hell for forty years. Violet went to Hell for what seemed to her to be only five minutes, but in fact she was gone more than six hours, and she only discovered that when she returned to her post. We reapers do not know what could be slowing down Hell time, or if it’s actually dramatically speeding up Earth time. We can’t tell.

“Second, Rowena verbally claimed to know nothing about what’s going on, but non-verbally managed to indicate that someone - or something - is threatening her, somehow. Violet got the impression that whatever it was, it was directly related to the multiple universe bleed-through situation. She managed to work into the conversation the idea that Rowena would respond differently to the same questions from an Archangel, and while Rowena verbally denied it, non-verbally she communicated that an Archangel could help.

“So Violet returned to her post, and asked Gabriel to assist. Unfortunately, Gabriel was traumatized by being held captive in a cage in Hell’s throne room by Asmodeus, and he can’t face returning there. Additionally, Dean doesn’t want Gabriel to leave the cabin where they currently are. Apparently, Gabriel tried to return here to the Bunker earlier, but landed in an alternate universe, in which: Sam, you didn’t go to Stanford, but to UK-L, and you went there with Shann here; Shann, you own the bunker, having inherited it from your uncle, and you live here, inviting Sam, Gabriel, and Charlie Bradbury - who, in that universe, is still alive - over on Saturday nights to play poker; neither of you speaks any language other than English; and Dean died five years ago. Gabriel got himself out of there and back to the cabin all right, but Dean is afraid that if he tries again, he might not get back again, and he’d be lost, so Dean is making him stay there, at least for now.

“Castiel and Billie went to The Empty to try to have a chat with The Cosmic Entity, and have yet to return. And Balthazar left his vessel temporarily and ascended to Heaven to find out what, if anything, the angels upstairs know, and he hadn’t returned yet, either.

“When Shann, here, went to the bathroom, he crossed over into an alternate universe. I was able to see him, and to direct him back, but I might not be able to repeat that. For the time being, it would seem to be safest for the two of you to remain in the kitchen. There’s food and water, coffee, chairs, and a work table. If you like, I can gather your research things from the library for you and bring them here, but then it’s best if we all stay together, here. As long as we stay together, in this room, there’s no danger of crossing into an alternate universe, and you should both be safe.

“So, that’s what I know. If you have questions, I can try to answer them, or try to find out if there’s an answer available to another reaper, but that’s basically everything.” Alicia slumped back a bit in her chair.

Sam took a deep breath. “Okay, so, we’ll stay here, for now. Shann, you’re welcome to stop working, you’ve already put in a full day, but I would like to have my research, Alicia, if you could.”

“I’d like my things, too, please. I have a theory I want to check out.” Shann gestured to the materials he’d set on the table already. “These are from the alternate universe. I want to see if they differ, and, if so, in what ways.”

Alicia nodded, and went to collect their materials from the table in the library. She returned with them a moment later. “It would probably be all right for you to work in there, too, but I don’t know if other bleed-through spots will open up, and I don’t want you two cut off from food and water. I _know_ you’re safe in here.”

Sam smiled softly. “No worries, Alicia, we want to be safe, too.”

Shann nodded his agreement absently, already looking through the notes he’d brought back from the alternate universe in comparison with the notes Alicia had just brought from the library in this one, and already finding differences. He took a pen and started making further notes.

***

Billie shot a glance at Cas. “I agree, but let’s find out what we can here, first. I already tried to get into the Bunker, and couldn’t.”

She turned to Lucifer. “How are you awake?”

“My former vessel, Nick, awakened me. He had started to summon me, and I was almost there, partly in the world, when Jack blasted me back here.”

“That was a really long time ago, Lucifer. When Jack awakened me when I was in the Empty, the Cosmic Entity was on me within what seemed like minutes, trying to get me to agree to go back to sleep, so he could. Why would he let you roam around for months on end?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone but the two of you since being blasted back by Jack. Come to think of it, that does seem to have been a while ago, certainly longer ago than the Mark suddenly vanishing from my arm. But there’s no real way to tell how much time has passed, here.” Lucifer shrugged. “So, why are the two of you here? You don’t seem to be dead. I mean, I know that you can go anywhere, Billie. But Cassie, here? Wouldn’t you normally need to be dead to be in the Empty, little brother?”

“Not when he’s with me,” Billie said. “As for why we’re here, we’re looking for the Cosmic Entity. We need to ask him a few questions. Things have been happening that haven’t been making much sense. Some of them involve you, Lucifer.”

“Me? Like I said, I’ve been here. I can’t get up to much mischief here. And, again, I haven’t seen the Cosmic Entity, at all.”

“Are you sure you’re not the Cosmic Entity?” Cas asked. “I’ve seen him invade Heaven and take the form of angels, before. In fact, he took my own form right in front of me, last time I was here; said his own form was too hard to accept.”

“Good point. Tell us something only Lucifer would know,” Billie suggested.

“When I possessed Castiel, I had access to all of his thoughts. I know that Cassie here is in love with Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, tell us something we don’t know, Lucifer; they’re engaged,” Billie laughed. Cas pointed to his ring. 

“Dean and I had a chat a couple of weeks ago. We finally admitted our feelings for each other.”

“Really? Well, congrats, little brother. I’m truly happy for you. Honestly, that’s amazing.” Lucifer smiled.

“I am having so much _deja vu_ right now. I feel like I had this exact conversation with Lucifer not too long ago, in the Bunker, in Sam’s brain,” Cas told Billie.

“I was… where, now? Sam’s brain? I haven’t been in possession of Sam for a very long time now.”

“No, but someone is residing in Sam’s memory palace, claiming to be you,” Cas told him. “The story was that just before you died, Amara gave you a choice - you could come here, to the Empty, or you could choose to return to the Cage, which she supposedly had modified to make it no longer a torture device, but simply a holding cell, capable of holding up to six fully charged Archangels. But she didn’t specify that she meant the Cage in Hell, so you chose to go to the Cage in Sam’s brain, which you knew had a broken lock. 

“I’ve been in Sam’s memory palace, and spoken with that version of you, Lucifer, multiple times. I touch-read you, and you weren’t lying. Today, we had a meeting with Amara, where she agreed to remove you from Sam’s brain, and put you back into the Cage in Hell. Either way, you shouldn’t be _here_. And that’s why I said we need to get to the Bunker - to find out who’s in Sam’s head, since it clearly isn’t you, and why both he and Amara _were_ clearly lying about it, and why I couldn't _tell_ that he was lying when I touch-read him.”

“And I agree, Castiel,” Billie nodded. “But again, I’ve already tried to get into the Bunker today, and couldn’t.”

“Wait - Death can’t get inside a _building_?” Lucifer asked.

“No. The Bunker’s never been so heavily warded that Death couldn’t get inside, before today, but it is, now. Sam and a friend are there, and may not be able to get out safely,” Billie replied.

“Take me back with you. I owe Sam Winchester, and now that the Mark is gone, I’m no longer corrupted, and can acknowledge that debt freely. Whoever it is in his head, it isn’t me. You might need my power, both to get into the Bunker, and to fight off whoever that is.” 

Castiel looked pleadingly at Billie. He knew that it was possible that _this_ was the fake Lucifer, but if it wasn’t, Sam was in trouble, and Lucifer could help. 

“It’s up to you, Castiel,” Billie said, quietly.

Cas closed his eyes for a second. “All right, Lucifer. We’ll take you to the Bunker with us. Billie, let’s go.”

They vanished.

And the black floor started to bubble up into yet another shape.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...who's really in Sam's head? Or is the Lucifer in The Empty the fake? Dun dun dunnnn! 
> 
> No art this chapter, sorry.
> 
> Please comment!! :D


	163. Cas the Tactician At Work...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena is reminded of her place by a mysterious voice. Lucifer's vessel is only an illusion; to channel his power, he needs a real one, so Castiel agrees to let him in, on the condition that he let Cas drive. Lucifer, in Cas, uses his power to eliminate the excessive warding on the Bunker, which allows Cas and Billie to enter and find Sam, Shann, and Alicia. Balthazar returns from Heaven to the cabin, and gives his report. Dean calls Cas and is finally able to reach him. Violet, Balthazar, and Hannah agree to stay with Dean until it can be established that it's safe for Dean to drive back to Kansas. Cas and Billie reassure Dean that Lucifer really is playing ball. Gabe returns to the Bunker. Dean decides to take a nap.

“Rowena.” A deep grumble of a voice from the rear of the Throne Room, which, other than the speaker and Rowena, was empty.

“Yes?” Rowena replied.

“You did well with that reaper today. Are you going to be able to do as well if she returns with reinforcements?”

“Of course. This isn’t my first time at the rodeo. And I _am_ the Queen here.”

“You may be _Queen_ , but I guess that makes _me_ the _Emperor_ . **_Remember your place_**.”

“Would you like the throne?” Rowena inquired.

“No. It suits me to have you sit there. You can be the figurehead. Play the Queen all you like, my dear. Just remember who it is that _really_ holds the power, here.”

Rowena shivered a tiny bit, and nodded obediently. “I remember.”

“Good.”

***

Billie, Cas, and Lucifer materialized in the Bunker’s parking lot, next to Shann’s car. As Billie had earlier reported, not even the door was visible. No steps. No railing. Nothing but a hillside with a nice tree that they all knew wasn’t really there.

Castiel walked over to where he knew the railing and steps _should_ be, and tried to feel them. Nothing. The hillside felt solid. “We could try going around to the garage door,” he suggested.

“We could try, but I have a feeling it’s just going to be solid hillside there, as well.” Billie sighed.

“Let me try something,” Lucifer said. “Stand back, little brother.”

Castiel moved out of the way, and Lucifer rubbed his fingers, then shook out his hands, then aimed his hands toward the space where the door should be. Exactly nothing happened.

“Um… I don’t get it. That should have worked.” Lucifer looked nonplussed.

Bille peered at him. “Lucifer, you’re in _Nick’s form_ , but _Nick_ was trying to summon you, you said.”

“Right. And?”

“So this is the form in which you died, but Nick didn’t finish the spell to bring you back. He was bringing you back in your true form, right? So you could take him back as your vessel?”

“Right. Yeah, I don’t think he’d finished the spell before Jack blasted me back to the Empty.”

“Right. So, the form you’re in is an _illusion_. It doesn’t exist. You can’t channel your power through it. You need to ascend from it, and either use your power without a vessel, which could drain your grace pretty hard, or you need to find a vessel to channel your power,” Billie explained.

“I don’t suppose you’re volunteering?” Lucifer grinned at her.

“I’m really not,” she replied. “Death cannot be a vessel.”

Lucifer looked at Castiel. “What do you say, little brother? You’ve housed me before, while I was corrupted by the Mark. Now that the Mark is gone, being my vessel will be a cake walk. I’ll let you drive, even.”

“You’ll leave when we’re done?” Cas asked.

“Well, I’ll need another vessel. Once I ascend from this one, since it’s only an illusion, I have a feeling I won’t be able to return to it. But yes, I’m willing to leave you in charge and just ride along until that happens, and as soon as we find another willing vessel, I will vamoose from yoose. Promise.”

“I’m sure you realize exactly how much your promises are worth to me, Lucifer,” Cas said.

“Yes. I’m sure. But if you want to use my power, you have to give me a way to channel it. C’mon, Cassie. Let me in.”

“Fine. But i’m in charge. I’m not sitting back this time.”

“Of course! Haven't I just finished saying that?”

“Then, yes.”

Lucifer’s illusory body fell to the ground, then vanished, as a bright light rose from it, bobbed once in midair, then went into Castiel. Cas turned toward the railing, his hands came up, and the railing, step, door, and wall set into the hillside came immediately into view. Billie and Cas smiled, and went down the steps. Cas got out his key to the Bunker door, and unlocked it. He pushed it open, and they entered.

***

Shann looked up from his text. He poked Sam’s arm and whispered, “Did you hear that?”

Sam nodded, as did Alicia.

“I’ll go check. You two stay here,” the reaper told them, quietly. She got up and walked out of the kitchen.

***

A bright light entered the kitchen from the ceiling and entered Balthazar’s vessel’s body, which perked right back up. Dean sighed in relief.

“Balth? You okay? You were gone a long time. Is everything all right?”

Balthazar nodded. “I’m fine. I had a few things to go over with Inias. Where are Gabriel and Hannah?”

“They’re in the living room.” Dean walked over to the living room door, and called Gabe, Hannah, and Violet back into the kitchen.

“Balthazar. Did you run into any trouble?” Gabe asked.

“No. But I suspect that as soon as I left Heaven, Inias took steps to protect it - including closing the gates and shutting down Angel Radio. I haven’t heard a thing on the air since I left. Inias didn’t know anything about multiple universes. I filled him in on what’s been going on. It took a while. Sorry I was gone so long.”

“Why would he close the gates over this?” Dean asked.

“Heaven has limited space. There’s plenty of room for souls from _this_ universe, but what if souls from multiple universes started showing up in _this_ Heaven, rather than the Heaven of their own universe? We know there are multiple Heavens, and multiple heavenly hosts, from our adventures in Apocalypse World,” Gabe pointed out.

“Right.” Dean nodded.

“Inias would figure that it would be better to leave some souls temporarily in the veil than to flood our Heaven with souls that may or may not belong there. Once in, they might not be so easy to sort out,” Hannah said.

“Better to make a mistake that leaves a few souls hanging out for a short time than to admit souls that don’t belong. Got it,” Dean acknowledged.

“Have you heard anything from Castiel yet?” Balthazar asked.

“No. Not yet. I’ll try his cell again.” Dean pulled his own cell phone out of his pocket and tried Cas’ number; it rang.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas answered the phone. Dean sighed in relief, and put his cell on speaker so everyone could hear.

“Cas, you’re on speaker. Where are you? I saw you vanish from the cabin with Billie hours ago. Violet said she thought you were going to the Empty?”

“I’m at the Bunker. Billie, Sam, Shann, and Shann’s reaper-observer, Alicia, are here with me; they’re all fine, they’re all safe. But, Dean, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Cas? What’s wrong?”

“Billie and I did go to the Empty, to talk with the Cosmic Entity. _We couldn’t find him_ . We did, however, find someone else: _Lucifer_.”

“ _Lucifer_? But he’s in Sam’s mind… isn’t he?” Dean was confused.

“We don’t know what’s up quite yet, Dean. But this Lucifer is also without the Mark, and uncorrupted. When Billie and I explained what was going on with Sam, he asked to come along - to help. And when we got to the Bunker, we couldn’t get in. Lucifer was still in Nick’s form, but it was an illusion, not a real vessel, and he couldn’t channel his power. If he ascended from that form into his true form, he’d have tremendous power, but any use of it would drain him considerably; that’s why angels almost always prefer to operate through a vessel, it channels our power and limits the drain on our grace. So, he needed a vessel, and Billie is Death, she can’t be a vessel, so….”

“So you let him in?! Castiel!” Dean’s voice dropped dangerously low.

“Dean, I know you’re upset, but he got us into the Bunker, he’s letting me be in charge, he’s agreed to just sit back and let me drive, and he promised to leave as soon as another vessel could be found for him. He’s behaving, Dean. This is really me, you can verify with Billie when we’re finished talking. I swear to you, I’m fine. _He doesn’t have the Mark_.”

“Yeah, well, neither did the Lucifer in Sam’s head,” Gabe pointed out. “If you guys found a Lucifer in the Empty, who in the Hell is in Sam’s brain, Cassie?”

“We haven’t figured that out yet, Gabriel. Violet, Alicia gave us your full report, so we’re updated on the multiple universe situation. Are you all right to stay with Dean for the time being?”

“I’ll stay here at least until my relief comes, and I’ll update him as needed; if he doesn’t show, I’ll stay with Dean until we can figure out what else to do.” Violet touched Dean’s arm comfortingly.

“Thank you, Violet,” Dean told her quietly.

“Balth, Hannah, could you please stay with Dean and Violet, until we figure out whether or not it’s safe for him to drive back to Kansas?” Cas asked the other angels.

“Of course, Castiel,” Hannah promised.

“Gabe, I suggest that you come back here, now,” Cas told him. “Lucifer dropped the excessive warding, and you should be able to get in. Land in the parking lot by Shann’s car; call Sam if you can’t see the door, but it should be all right.” 

“I’ll be right there, Cassie.” Gabriel vanished.

“Castiel, I went upstairs and spoke with Inias. I believe that as soon as I left, he closed Heaven’s gates and shut down Angel Radio,” Balthazar said.

“All right. That might not have been my move, but I’m not going to second guess Inias on his choice. I’m sure that whatever he did, he did it in the best interest of Heaven, and that’s his job.

“Dean, can you take me off speaker for a minute, please?” Cas asked.

Dean did as requested. “Are you sure you’re all right, Cas?”

“I promise you that I am fine, Dean. I’ll let you talk to Billie in a second, and she can confirm that for you. But first, I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and we will get through this, my heart.”

“I love you, too, Angel. Put Billie on.”

“Hey, Dean,” Billie said, as Cas handed her the phone. “Lucifer seems to be keeping up his end of the bargain. Look, you were listening to that phone call, you heard Castiel; he’s a tactician, way better than Lucy ever was, okay? That leadership? That was all Castiel. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that I can see them both in Cas' vessel, and Lucifer really _is_ letting Castiel drive. 

“Now, I’m not going to insult you by saying ‘don’t worry,’ I know you _will_ , and I know you have cause. But really, so far, at least, it’s going all right, and I’ll keep an eye out. I’m not taking off for a bit here, I want to know what’s going on here as much as you all do. The reapers have their lists of who to collect and when, and can act without me for a while, so I’m good to be here. We will figure this out, Dean. I promise.”

“All right, Billie. I’m trusting you and Gabriel with my brother, and my fiancé, the two entities that I love the most in this world. Both of them apparently have Lucifer inside of them, somehow. Figure it out, please,” Dean ended the call. He closed his eyes, and rubbed his hand down his face.

“Are you all right, Dean?” Hannah asked, gently.

“No. No, I’m not, but thank you for the concern, Hannah. Violet, we think the living room is safe, right? So, it should be okay if I take a nap on the couch, yes?” Dean asked.

Violet nodded. “Go ahead, Dean. Get some sleep. We’ll watch over you.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another busy chapter with lots to process! :D
> 
> Sorry, no art still. Working on it for future chapters, though. 
> 
> Please comment! 
> 
> [Bought a new computer today, but it isn't hooked up yet, so, still working from the laptop. Grr.]


	164. More on Malachai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann continues his translation work. Billie comes over to tell him it's after midnight and to go to bed.

Shann largely ignored the others’ conversations. The multiple universe thing was interesting, to a point, but as long as he knew where to step and that while he was sitting in the kitchen he was safe, he was fine with it. The whole two-Lucifer thing was unfortunate, but he seemed to recall Sam telling him that there had been two Michaels as well, so he figured having a duplicate Archangel floating around was probably something the assembled group could handle without him. Plus, he was still working on translating a really interesting text, which contained a detailed history of Hell, which was somewhat different from that which he’d learned in Sunday school, growing up. Moreover, compared to the text and notes he’d taken from the alternate universe he’d briefly visited, his own text seemed to be missing a good bit. 

The notes from the alternate universe were definitely his, and in his handwriting - but they varied widely from the notes he had written in his own universe earlier that day, and there was a whole new chapter in the beginning of the text, which his alternate self had apparently only recently translated. This chapter, which wasn’t in  _ his _ text, was all about Malachai, the “monster” only briefly mentioned at the very start of his own text. Shann checked the translation his alternate self had provided as he read.

  * **_Al principio, estaba el vacío, y estaba Malachai, llamado el Monstruo. Malachai flotaba, solo, en el vacío, durante una cantidad desmesurada de tiempo inconmensurable, como poco más que un pensamiento, una amalgama suelta de minerales sensibles. Con el tiempo, Malachai creció, tanto en tamaño como en poder, pero el Monstruo no tenía interés ni en la creación ni en la destrucción; a menudo, el monstruo simplemente dormía._** **** ****
  * _**In the beginning, there was the void, and there was Malachai, called the Monster. Malachai floated, alone, in the void, for an inordinate amount of immeasurable time, as little more than a thought, a loose amalgam of sentient minerals. Over time, Malachai grew, both in size, and in power, but the Monster had no interest in either creation or destruction; often, the Monster simply slept.**_



_ Well, and what else would a formless sentient amalgam of minerals do, with no one to talk to, but sleep? Do sentient amalgams of minerals dream, I wonder? _

  * **_Más tarde, después de que nacieron la Luz y la Oscuridad, Malachai se interesó en las criaturas que la Luz tuvo el placer de crear. A Malachai le gustaba adoptar sus formas, la forma del monstruo cambiaba a su antojo, burbujeando desde la negrura del cieno primordial._** **** ****
  * _**Later, after Light and Darkness were born, Malachai became interested in the creatures the Light took pleasure in bringing into being. Malachai enjoyed taking on their shapes, the monster’s form changing at its will, bubbling up from the blackness of the primordial ooze.**_



_ Light and Darkness were born? That makes them sound like people, rather than abstract concepts. Well, John 1:5 - “ _ _ This is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you, that God is Light, and in Him there is no Darkness at all.” _ _ So, if God is Light, and an entity, and the Darkness is another entity, born at the same time, who were their parents, and are they siblings? I wonder if Sam knows. I bet Gabe does.  _

  * **_Temeroso de Malachai, debido a la inmensa edad y al aparente poder del Monstruo, la Luz creó el Infierno para albergar a Malachai y a todos aquellos que pudieran corromper sus creaciones amadas. Después de que la Luz arrojó al Arcángel al Infierno y le dio dominio sobre el reino, el Arcángel echó a Malachai y Malachai regresó al vacío._** **** ****
  * _**Afraid of Malachai, due to the Monster’s immense age and seeming power, the Light created Hell to house Malachai, and all those who might corrupt his beloved creations. After the Light cast the Archangel into Hell and gave him dominion over the realm, the Archangel gave Malachai leave to abandon Hell, and Malachai returned to the void.**_



_ Okay, that seems to me to be different from the text I translated this morning; let’s see, where’d I put that page? Right. So, my own text, said this: _

  * _**En los días de la vieja Malachai, el monstruo, destructor de mundos, vino el Arcángel para tomar el lugar del monstruo's, echado por el Señor en las profundidades del reino de la prisión, inicialmente como un prisionero, más tarde como gobernante, reinando en el terror mientras retorcía a las almas a sus oscuros propósitos, tratando de hacer ingeniería inversa del proceso de creación.**_ **** ****
  * _**In the days of old Malachai, the Monster, destroyer of worlds, came the Archangel to take the monster's place, cast down by the Lord into the depths of the prison realm, initially as a prisoner, later as Ruler, reigning in terror as He twisted souls to his dark purposes, seeking to reverse engineer the creation process.**_



_ So, my own text says that Lucifer “came...to take the monster’s place” in Hell, when he was cast down by God into Hell as a prisoner, which would seem to indicate that Malachai had been a prisoner there, and that by Lucifer’s coming to “take the monster’s place,” Malachai would have been set free. The alternate universe text says that God created Hell to house the monster, among others, and after Lucifer was made the ruler of Hell, it was Lucifer who gave the monster permission to leave Hell, and the monster went back to the void. Also, the alternate universe text says God was afraid of Malachai “due to the Monster’s immense age and seeming power” but my own text calls Malachai “the Monster, destroyer of worlds.” What worlds did Malachai destroy?  _

_ If Malachai had that much power, would he even have acknowledged Lucifer, or God? Why bother with them or follow their instructions? Why care whether or not Lucifer gave him permission to leave Hell? If Malachai wanted to leave, why couldn’t he just go at any time? How did he become a prisoner? Or was he really a prisoner at all? Okay, clearly these are not questions I can answer right now, although, hey, two Lucifers to ask, I guess! In the meantime, back to the alternate text. _

  * _**Había dos tipos de seres creados por la Luz: los Celestiales, que incluían a los Arcángeles, Ángeles, cupidos, etc., y los animales unidos a la Tierra, que eventualmente evolucionaron para incluir a los humanos. Cuando los humanos comenzaron a morir, sus almas rápidamente comenzaron a llenar el velo, y la Luz descubrió la necesidad de un lugar de orden para que sus almas, por lo que la Luz construyó el Cielo, y decretó que las almas dignas descansarían allí por eternidad.**_ **** ****
  * _**There were two kinds of beings created by the Light - the Celestials, which included the Archangels, Angels, cupids, etc., and the Earth-bound animals, which eventually evolved to include the humans. When the humans began to die, their souls quickly began to fill the veil, and the Light discovered the need for a place of order for their souls, so the Light built Heaven, and decreed that worthy souls would rest there for eternity.**_



_ I thought the Celestials lived in Heaven, but this indicates that it wasn’t even built until after humans started to die. Something else to ask Gabe about, I guess. _

  * _**Pero eventualmente, los seres celestiales también comenzaron a expirar, no por la edad, sino en la batalla, y se descubrió la necesidad de un lugar para ellos. Del mismo modo, aunque las creaciones del Arcángel no sucumbieron a la enfermedad o la edad, también murieron en la batalla, y no pudieron simplemente regresar al Infierno. Por lo tanto, se decretó que los seres celestiales y demoníacos por igual regresarían al vacío cuando murieran.**_ **** ****
  * _**But eventually, the Celestial beings also began to expire, not from age, but in battle, and a need for a place for them to go was discovered. Likewise, although the Archangel’s own creations did not succumb to illness or age, they did also die in battle, and they could not simply return to Hell. Thus, it was decreed that Celestial and demonic beings alike would return to the void when they died.**_



_ So, I’m not clear on why Celestials couldn’t go to Heaven, and demons couldn’t “simply return to Hell,” when they died. Why not? Lack of space? That doesn’t make a lot of sense; if you’re God, and you can build whatever you want, why couldn’t you add on a wing in Heaven, make more space in Hell?  _

“Shann?” Billie poked his shoulder lightly, and he jumped.

“Oh, hey, Billie. What’s up?” Shann looked up at her.

Shann 

“Just wanted to point out that it’s after midnight. I don’t think you got a whole lot of sleep last night, and you’ve been working fairly steadily since 8:00 this morning. Take a break, eat something, get a nap. I admire the work ethic, but you’re going to fall apart.”

At that moment, Shann yawned widely. “Oh, excuse me. I guess you’re right. I just got really caught up in this translation work I’m doing. Do you know anything about a monster named Malachai that was in Hell prior to Lucifer being cast down?”

“No, I don’t, but remember, I’m only Death’s _replacement_ , and I’ve only been in this job a couple of years, where my predecessor was in the job for _millennia_. I think he mentioned once that neither he nor God could remember which of them came first.”

“Interesting, because this text indicates that this Malachai definitely existed prior to God.”

“Well, Shann, looks like you'll have your choice of Archangels to try to get some answers from tomorrow. For now, get some sleep. There’s a couch in the library, or you can take the bed in the last open extra room. Gabriel and Castiel have shored up all the weak spots in the Bunker, and fixed the warding, so it’s safe to walk around in here, you won’t accidentally end up in an alternate universe again.” Billie smiled.

“Where’s Sam?” Shann asked.

“Already sleeping. Gabe’s in with him. Cas is going back to the cabin to be there when Dean wakes up, and they'll drive back tomorrow, if it's safe. Go on, hit the hay.”

Shann nodded and put the book down, stacking the notes carefully. Then he got up from his seat, and stretched. “Guess I am more tired than I realized,” he said, as he yawned again.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same book, different contents. Interesting that Shann has the same handwriting in both universes, isn't it? ;)
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please leave a comment! 
> 
> [Got the new PC up and running! It's about 20x faster than the old one, and way better than the laptop! Yay! Finally!]


	165. Will the Real Lucifer Come on Down?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas returns to the cabin. Gabriel goes inside Sam's head while Sam is sleeping to talk to the Lucifer in residence in Sam's memory palace.

Castiel materialized in the cabin’s kitchen. Hannah and Balthazar were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Dean?” Cas asked.

“He’s sleeping, on the couch in the living room,” Hannah said, quietly. “Violet is in there with him, reading a book and keeping an eye on him. He’s fine.”

Castiel nodded. He pulled out a chair and joined the other two angels at the table.

“You’re really all right with Inias closing Heaven, Cassie?” Balthazar’s thumb drummed anxiously on his thigh.

“It’s not ideal, but I understand his thinking. Hopefully, it won’t have to be closed for very long. Are the two of you all right?”

Hannah nodded. “I’m fine, Castiel.”

“I’m good,” Balthazar agreed. “How are you...and your passenger?”

Cas shrugged. “I’m fine. Lucifer is behaving, letting me drive. We were able to shore up the weak spots between worlds at the Bunker. We’ll do that here, as well, and then we can all get some rest.”

“What do you need us to do, Castiel?” Hannah inquired.

“What do you mean?” Cas seemed confused.

“You said  _ ‘we’ll’ _ shore up the weak spots. What do you need from us?”

“Oh. I meant Lucifer and I will do it. He’ll supply the power, and I’ll channel it where it needs to go. It’ll just take a few minutes.” He rose from his chair. 

***

Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Sam. He envied Sam’s ability to fall asleep in a matter of seconds. 

He touched two fingers to Sam’s forehead, and materialized in Sam’s memory palace. Having been there before, he was better able to “land” where he wanted to be, close to the area where the Cage was located. He stayed close to the wall, trying to make himself less visible and more… well, sneaky, to be frank. He saw Lucifer and Michael, and moved to the opposite side of the hallway, where he could listen in on them, but they hopefully wouldn’t see him. He leaned back against the wall, settling in.

_ They’ll be gone by the time I get back to the Bunker, eh? Well, maybe she was  _ **_counting_ ** _ on my being delayed. So much for Auntie Amara keeping her promises and being neutral. _

“Lucy, wasn’t that meeting with Aunt Amara supposed to have been today? Shouldn’t we have heard something from Gabriel or Castiel by now?” 

_ Michael at least seems to know who Lucifer is, that’s promising. _

“It was earlier today, or, well, it might be yesterday by now, but yes. We should have heard something from Gabe or Cassie, but I’m sure one of them will come to tell us something soon. Why don’t you get some rest, big brother? You’re still drained from having been in the Cage for so long, more so than I. I’ll wake you if one of them comes to tell us something.”

_ And Lucy’s being kind to Mike. I’m taking that as a good sign. _

“All right. I guess I am a bit tired. Are you going to patrol and make sure Sam doesn’t wander anywhere he’d get into trouble?”

_ They’ve been actively watching out for Sam? That’s a switch. _

“No, I overheard Gabriel telling Sam that he was going to shut off his REM cycle temporarily. Sam won’t be dreaming, so I don’t need to patrol. I’ll just stay here and watch over you, Mike. Go on, get some sleep.”

_ Okay, they’re on the level. Time to step in. _

Gabe pushed off from the wall, and rounded the corner. “Hey, Lucifer. Michael. I’m surprised you’re still here. We had our meeting with Amara, and she said you’d be gone by the time I got back to the Bunker. Yet, here you are.”

“We obviously have no control over what Auntie does or doesn’t do, Gabe,” Lucifer pointed out.

“Of course not. Didn’t mean to imply any fault on the part of you two, just explaining my surprise at finding you, that’s all.” Gabriel smiled. 

“Glad you’re back, Gabe,” Michael told him. “Sorry, but I was just going to lie down for a bit. I’m kinda tired.”

Gabe nodded. “Okay, Mike. I’ll just talk to Luce for a bit, here.” Gabriel gestured, and Lucifer walked with him a short distance away, where they could talk without bothering Michael.

“So, Amara said she’d remove us from Sam, then? Isn’t she worried that Dad will take that amiss?” Lucifer asked.

“She claims she’s Switzerland. She said Sam shouldn’t have to have the two of you in his head, so she’d remove you from it, but she couldn’t let you help either side, us or Dad, so she was going to put you back in the Cage.” Gabe put his hands up as Lucifer started to object. “Remember, she said she had modified the Cage, so that it’s no longer a torture device, it’s just a holding cell. She said she’d reinforce it so it couldn’t be opened by us, by you, or by Dad, so neither of you would be able to interfere. That was pretty much the whole meeting. Then Cassie said he needed to speak with her alone, and the rest of us went to paint over the warding we’d put up in Donna’s cabin.”

“Donna’s cabin? I thought the meeting was taking place at Bobby Singer’s house, for its panic room?”

“It was originally supposed to, but circumstances dictated a change in venue. Long story, involving a swarm of federal agents in Sioux Falls that Dean would have had to play possum to avoid. Castiel called Amara, asked her if she’d mind a different location, she said she was fine with it, so we figured we’d put up some warding, and paint over it after the meeting was done.” Gabe shrugged. “It seemed to work, we didn’t have any issues during the meeting. But afterward, I got a bad feeling.”

“About?”

“Well, here’s the thing, Luce. Amara’s stated reason for giving you and Michael the choice of going to the Empty or going to the Cage was that, if you chose the Cage, the power of an Archangel would still be potentially in play.”

“Right. And?”

“But you told Castiel that you’re no longer an Archangel, you’re simply a ‘memory with intent.’ And it got me wondering, bro. If you were lying about that, what else might you have lied about?” Gabriel again raised his hands in supplication, indicating a request for Lucifer to hold his objections. “I don’t think you’re lying, now. I think it’s Amara who isn’t telling the truth. So, I need to ask - what did she tell you about why she was giving you a choice, exactly?”

Lucifer considered a moment, then nodded. “I get it, Gabe. I see how you could think that. It’s not like I’ve exactly given you reasons to trust over the last few millennia. Okay. So, when I died, before the reaper could arrive to take me to the Empty, Amara appeared to me. She said that I could go to the Empty, if I wanted to, but that she was also willing to keep me ‘in play.’ That a time might come when an Archangel’s powers were needed, that Dad might not be able or willing to make a new Archangel - and he’s refused to do it before, Gabe, claiming there wasn’t enough material left - so, if I wanted, she would step in, and send me to the Cage, instead. I wouldn’t have all my powers, but she said it would be easier to restore my power to me than to create an Archangel from scratch. She said she knew how to destroy, not create, but she could at least preserve. I knew that the Cage in Sam’s memory had to have a broken lock, it was the only way to rescue him without letting anyone else out of the Cage in Hell, so when Amara didn’t specify the Cage in Hell as having to be where I’d go, I chose the Cage, and came here.”

“So, let me get this straight. As far as you’re aware, you’re dead, you do _not_ have your Archangel powers, and Amara said she would be able to _restore your power to you_ ; is that right?”

Lucifer nodded, slowly. 

“Lucy, Castiel and Billie had to go to the Empty today, and while there, they found a _duplicate you_. He had obviously died, and he was also in Nick’s form. They brought him back here with them, but once here, it became clear that Nick’s form was an illusion, not a real vessel, and he couldn’t use his powers. He dropped the illusion, and Castiel agreed to let him in, on the condition that Cassie would be in charge at all times. Once in a real vessel,  _ he had his powers and could use them _ .”

Lucifer caught on immediately. “In other words, Amara didn’t really give me a choice in order to preserve my powers, she gave me a choice to s _trip my powers from me, and take them for herself._ ”

Gabe nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking, yeah. Luce, we’ve been having an issue with the multiple overlapping universes bleeding together, today. We know there were at least two Michaels. Now it appears that there are at least two of you, as well. I’m betting you’re not actually the Lucifer from this particular universe. You’re not the Lucifer from Apocalypse World, where the alternate Michael came from; that Lucifer was killed by that Michael, in their universe, a long time ago. I know how  _ this  _ universe’s Lucifer died. How did  _ you  _ die?”

“I possessed the President for a while. He had been sleeping with one of his advisors, a woman named Kelly Kline. She didn’t realize that I was in him, and came to him to continue the relationship. I was happy to oblige, but she realized something was wrong before we could do anything - before we were even undressed, actually - and she backed out. She was contacted by Castiel, and assisted Castiel, Rowena, and the Winchesters in killing me. Rowena cast a spell to weaken me, then Kelly used Cassie’s angel blade, hidden under a pillow in a motel room, to stab me.”

Gabe nodded again. “Yeah, that’s not how this particular universe’s Lucifer died. In this universe, Apocalypse World’s Michael came through a rift, Dean agreed to be possessed by him to stop you, and stabbed you with an Archangel Blade. I’m thinking that since Amara chooses to be in this particular universe most of the time, she wanted to keep you close, so she brought you over, probably even before she gave you the choice.”

“That would explain why there was no reaper - Amara brought me from my universe to this one, and the reaper couldn’t find me. I thought the reaper’s delay was odd.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. What's Amara's game? Why does she need an Archangel's powers? 
> 
> Please comment!! ;D


	166. Sunday Morning Dawns Early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck and Kathy get ready to go to church. Cas (and Lucifer) and Dean get ready to drive back to Kansas. Shann wakes up and gets ready for another day of OT. Sam and Shann have a chat in the Bunker's hallway.

“Chuck?” Kathy called, as she came out of the bathroom, fresh from finishing her makeup. “We’re going to be late unless you’re ready to go.”

Chuck looked up at her from where he was sitting in the living room, soda in hand.  “I’m ready, but... don't you think this might be a little… I don’t know, egotistical?” Chuck laughed, nervously.

Chuck 

Kathy smiled. “I would think it would be a confidence booster, if anything. These are people who love you. Well, who love  _ God _ , which  _ is  _ you. I think it’d only be egotistical if you told people who you really are.” She stepped over and held out a hand to him as he rose from the chair. “C’mon, it’ll be fine. It’s a chance to get to meet some of my friends before we go to Kansas for the meeting next weekend, and then off on your book tour. And, remember, we’re going to the diner across the street for waffles afterward.”

“Ooh, waffles? Do they have the strawberry topping and whipped cream?” Chuck’s whole face lit up a bit.

“Careful with the glow, baby, but yes, they do.” Kathy grinned at him, and he quickly diminished the radiation output.

“Do you know, I’ve never actually been to a church service before. This is so weird.” Chuck laughed as he held the door for her.

***

Dean woke up in bed, for the second day in a row not knowing how he’d gotten there. 

_ I know I was napping on the couch _ .

Then he realized that Castiel was lying next to him, watching him, and Dean smiled softly.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiled back.

“Still doing okay, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I’m fine." Cas paused a second, as if listening, then finished, "Lucifer says to tell you good morning, and not to worry.”

Castiel, with Lucifer 

Dean laughed. “That’s a switch.”

Cas grinned. “Yeah, he’s kinda laughing, too, but he means it. He’s not our enemy anymore, Dean. The Mark is truly gone. He just wants to help.”

“Good to hear. You’re not your normal grumpy morning self; can I assume you’ve either already had a caffeine infusion, or have you just not slept yet?”

Castiel nodded. “Both, actually. I figured you’d be waking up soon, so I came in to be with you when you did, but I had a fresh cup of coffee just before I laid down, and no, I’ve not slept, but I don’t need to. Not only is my own grace fully charged, but I have Lucifer’s to draw on, as well.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. I trust your judgment, Angel. Or should that be ‘Angels’, plural?”

Cas laughed. “Smart guy. C’mon, get up. We think we can make sure that the highway is safe for a good distance out in front of the car, keeping us in the same universe as we drive, so we can head back to Kansas today. Balthazar will come with us and lend a hand with that, and with his power added to mine and Lucifer’s, none of us should get overly drained on the way back to the Bunker. Hannah just left to fly herself back; we shored up the weak spots in and around the Bunker last night, and Gabe is there to keep it together, so that’s safe for her to do without worrying she’ll land somewhere else, as Gabe did initially. The paint job is all done, and the walls look good; the wards are holding without being visible, so you can let Donna know that the cabin is warded and repainted.”

Dean grinned as he rose from the bed. “She’ll like that. Remind me to call her when we stop for lunch later.”

“We should probably call Jody as well, check up on her and the girls, make sure they’re all warned about the multiple universe situation, and I might fly up to Sioux Falls this evening, too.” Cas stood next to Dean, and took his hand gently.

“You should. You should go see Claire, tell her about us, even if I can’t be with you.” Dean glanced at his ring.

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. “It will be all right, my heart.”

“I know, Angel. I just wanted to be able to be with you, to tell Claire together.” Dean squeezed back, lightly.

“She’ll understand, Dean. She’ll be happy for us. You know she will.”

“I know.” Dean sighed. “Okay, let’s get moving. I need coffee, and then we should get on the road.”

***

Shann woke in a strange bedroom, but it took him only a second to remember where he was, and why. It was early yet, and he wasn’t  _ supposed  _ to be working today, so he stayed put for a minute; the bed was very comfortable. 

In fact, he fully intended to put in at least a full eight hours today, if not more, whether or not he got paid for it. The work was fascinating, he enjoyed both the work and his co-workers, he got fed regularly,  _ and _ he got paid a higher wage for this job than he’d ever gotten in any job he’d held previously. If he didn’t get paid for today, it wouldn’t matter. 

He was a bit tired this morning. He had worked from 8:00 in the morning until just after midnight the day before, with only a couple of breaks for coffee, food, and the bathroom. He wasn’t going to do  _ that _ again today - at some point, he needed to do some laundry - but he wasn’t ready to put away the translation of that text about Malachai yet. Something told him it was important to get that work done, to the point where, if Sam told him to go home, he was going to take the book home with him and work on it there.

He’d never felt that kind of compulsion to work before, but he generally tended to listen to his instincts, and every instinct he had was telling him to sit up and pay attention. He didn’t know why, or what about a text regarding a monster that existed prior to God could possibly be important  _ now _ , but he wasn’t going to argue.

He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He sniffed gingerly at his shirt; although he’d put in long hours, it hadn’t been physical labor, and he thought it’d probably be okay for a second day.

_ I wonder if I can borrow a shirt from someone. I wasn’t thinking about staying over when I left my apartment yesterday morning. _

He shrugged, and put his shoes on, then headed for the bathroom, to be closely followed by the kitchen. 

_ I wonder if Gabe’s had time to bake this morning. _

***

Sam woke to find Gabe curled up next to him, sound asleep. Sam smiled and slipped out the other side quietly. If the Archangel was tired enough to be sleeping, he’d let him rest.

Sam put his slippers on, and a robe on over the t-shirt and shorts he’d slept in, and headed for the bathroom. He stepped out into the hall at the same time as Shann, and waved hello.

“Hey, Sam.” Shann yawned.

“Hey. Billie said she was going to make sure you didn’t try to drive home last night.”

“It would’ve been okay. I wasn’t that tired,” Shann said.

“No, but we weren’t sure if there were bleed-through spots big enough to drive a car through between here and your apartment. We didn’t want you to try to head out and then accidentally end up in a different universe. Cas, Lucifer, and Gabe shored up all the weak spots in the Bunker last night, but they didn’t have time to check in town, yet. We don’t know how far the problem extends from the Bunker and cabin, or if those two spots are even the ‘epicenters’ or just mixed in with a bunch of places where bleed-through is happening. We couldn’t do much for the town last night, and we may have lost people from Lebanon to an alternate universe or two already, but we could prevent something from happening to you, at least.” Sam smiled.

“Oh. I didn’t even think of that. You’d think I would’ve, considering I’m the idiot who walked into an alternate universe yesterday and had to be directed back by a reaper.” Shann smacked himself lightly. “I don’t suppose you know if Gabe had time to bake this morning?” he asked, hopefully.

“I doubt it. I was asleep when he came in, but he was out like a light when I woke up just now, and what with everything that went on yesterday, I don’t think muffins were on his mind before he came to bed.”

Shann grinned. “No, probably not.”

“No harm in asking,” Sam grinned.

“Well, I make a mean French toast, and I guess I’m still kinda stuck here, so I’ll take breakfast duty this morning. Hey, you wouldn’t have a clean shirt I could borrow for the day, would you? I mean, this one’s probably okay, but….”

Sam nodded. “Sure. I’ve got some old sweatshirts that Cas likes to borrow, I think you’re just about his size, so they should fit you as well. I was no shorter in college, but I was a little leaner back then.”

“That’d be great, Sam, thanks. I should ask this, too - I intend to work today, whether you pay for it or not, just so you know….”

“Put it on the timesheet, Shann. Even if you did nothing at all, you’re here and available to work, at my direction - not like you could safely go anywhere else, really - and I’m perfectly willing to pay OT. I was kidding yesterday when I said I’d hit up Gabe for it, since he’s the one who told you to come in. Any time you want to work, Shann, it’s fine by me. I just don’t want you to think you  _ have _ to work weekends in the normal course of events.”

“Okay, thanks, Sam. I appreciate that.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck worrying about being egotistical? Unintentional irony fully intended...? *grin* And Kathy and Chuck are at the "meet my friends" stage... ;D I told you all that Kathy would be good for Him!
> 
> Shann's got good instincts. ;)
> 
> More art! The "Casifer" picture is one I did a while ago, and since Lucifer's letting Cas drive, it doesn't really apply, but I couldn't resist. ;)
> 
> Please comment!!


	167. Sunday Morning Continues...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann makes breakfast for the Bunker Bunch. Chuck and Kathy attend church. Dean, Castiel (with Lucifer), and Balthazar get on the road. Billie goes down to check on Rowena in Hell. Hannah tries to answer Shann's research questions.

Clad in one of Sam’s smaller-yet-still-oversized (the guy really  _ was _ a moose!) Stanford sweatshirts, his own jeans, and a thick pair of Gabe's socks that Sam had provided (he knew they were Gabe's because of the design - they had lollipops and candy canes all over them), Shann finished making an entire loaf of bread into French toast. He sprinkled powdered sugar over the mound of fried bread on the platter, and set the platter on the kitchen table. He got down a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee, doctored it with creamer, got out a plate and silverware, and seated himself at the table. The others could get their own place settings out; he was hungry and not disposed to wait further.

Next in was Hannah, which surprised Shann; he’d expected Sam. 

“Hey, Hannah. There’s fresh coffee, and I made French toast, if you’re hungry.”

Hannah smiled. “Just coffee for me. Everything else is just…”

“...molecules,” they finished together. She got a mug out and poured herself some coffee, then seated herself at the table across from Shann, already on his third slice of toast.

Sam and Gabriel entered the kitchen together. 

“Ooh, powdered sugar on the French toast! Sam, you gotta keep this guy around, he knows how to make French toast correctly!” Gabe grinned at Shann, as Sam snorted a quiet laugh. 

Shann waved a fork in the air expansively. “Help yourselves, there’s plenty, guys.”

Sam opened the cupboard, and got out two plates, two juice glasses, and two mugs, then opened a drawer and took out two forks and two knives. Then he crossed to the table, and set up the place settings for himself and Gabriel, while Gabriel went to the refrigerator and got out the orange juice and a small container of yogurt, both of which he brought over to the table, stopping on the way to collect a spoon. He handed the yogurt and spoon to Sam, and bowed ostentatiously. 

Sam grinned. “Sit down, goofy.”

Instead, Gabriel pulled out a chair and offered it to Sam. Sam laughed and sat down. Gabriel went and poured two mugs of coffee and doctored them with creamer, then crossed back to the table. He gave Sam his mug, then sat down as well.

Sam opened his yogurt while Gabriel poured juice for both of them. They each took some French toast, and dug in.

After the first bite, Gabe closed his eyes in apparent ecstasy, and moaned softly. “Seriously, Sam, don’t ever let Shann quit.”

Shann grinned and speared himself a fifth slice. “It is pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

Sam nodded. “Mmm. ‘Sreally good,” he mumbled around a bite of toast.

***

Chuck and Kathy were seated in the rear corner of the sanctuary. The pastor stepped up to the microphone after the choir had finished the opening hymn. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” the congregation responded.

“May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

“And also with you.”

“Let us pray, first silently, then aloud together, following the prayer printed in your bulletins.” 

The pastor paused a moment to allow for silent prayer, then continued, with the congregation: “Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid: cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you and worthily magnify your holy name; through Christ our Lord. 

“Glory to God in the highest, and peace to God's people on earth. Lord God, heavenly King, almighty God, we worship You, we give You thanks, we praise You for Your glory. 

“Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Lord God, Lamb of God, You take away the sins of the world: have mercy upon us; You sit at the right hand of Your Father in Heaven: receive our prayers. For you alone are the Holy One, you alone are the Lord, you alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, high the glory of God the Father. Amen.”

As the service progressed, Chuck’s fidgeting got worse and worse, and Kathy could tell that he was agitated.

During the choir’s performance of a hymn, she leaned over and whispered in his ear. “What’s wrong?” 

He whispered back, “Almost all of this.”

***

An hour after he’d awakened, Dean took a final sweep of the cabin, making sure that they were leaving it in better condition on Sunday morning than they’d entered it on Friday night. The bags and the angels were already in the car. He checked the kitchen, making sure the coffee maker had been cleaned, the pot was empty, and the burner turned off. 

Finally, standing just inside the front door, he nodded, satisfied. He stepped outside, pulled the door shut behind him, and locked it. He headed for the Impala, sliding into the driver’s seat. Balthazar was stretched out in the back seat, hands folded on his chest, eyes closed.

“Tired, Balth?” Dean asked.

“Not at all, Dean. My part in this journey is to passively offer my powers to Cassie, so he can channel them, along with his own and Lucifer’s powers, to fix any bleed-through spots we might encounter before we actually pass through them into an alternate universe. It’s easier for me to be a passive power giver if I’m relaxed and undistracted by my surroundings. Thus, I’m lying down with my eyes closed.”

“Balthazar, do you realize that that’s the first time you’ve ever voluntarily explained your actions, or lack thereof, to me, without snark? Congratulations,” Dean snarked.

“Dean.” Cas gently reproved.

Dean just grinned, and started the car. In the rearview mirror, he saw Balthazar open his eyes, look at him, and deliberately wink, before closing his eyes again. 

***

Billie slipped through the hallways of Hell quietly and invisibly until she reached the Throne Room. She stepped up to the door, and felt off, somehow; she backed away a step, and the feeling melted away. 

She could see Rowena on the throne, and in the rear corner of the room, she could see a shadow that indicated some kind of presence, though she couldn’t see an entity of any kind. She stepped to the side and made herself small against the wall, out of the line of sight from the corner where the shadow was located. 

When Rowena looked in her direction, she let herself become visible just for a second; she saw Rowena’s tiny smile, and knew it had been enough.

Rowena stood.

Suddenly, a deep, almost gravelly, voice asked, “Where are you going, Queen of Hell?”

“Och, I’m just needin’ ta stretch my legs a wee bit. I can’t sit  _ all  _ the time, no matter how nice the throne on which I’m perched.”

“Mmhmm. Don’t go far.”

“Of course not.”

Rowena walked casually to the door and stepped out into the hallway. She called back, “Though, as long as I’m up, I think I’ll just check on a few things. I’ll be back shortly.”

She started to walk quickly, and motioned subtly for Billie to follow. Billie smiled to herself, and did so.

***

Shann was back in the library, ready to dive back into the text about Malachai, when Hannah walked in and seated herself next to him at the conference table.

“Sam and Gabe are cleaning up in the kitchen. I heard from Billie that you had some questions about Celestial beings. If I can help, you’re welcome to ask me.” Hannah sipped her coffee, and waited.

Shann looked over at her, and considered. “I was thinking I’d need to ask Gabe, or maybe one of the Lucifers, or the Michael in Sam’s head, if it could be arranged, but maybe you’d know. I don’t know. Have you ever heard of a being called ‘Malachai, the Monster’? Malachai is spelled M-A-L-A-C-H-A-I.”

Hannah thought a moment. “There was an angel named Malachi, M-A-L-A-C-H-I; he was in one of the lesser choirs, and a rival of Balthazar’s during Heaven’s civil war. He was killed by Gadreel, on Metatron’s orders. He wasn't loyal to Castiel, so he wasn't brought back with the rest of us.”

“No, that’s someone else. This is a being of immense power, who predated God, according to the text I’m translating.”

“Definitely not the Angel Malachi, then.” Hannah grinned. “Then, no, I’m not familiar.”

“Okay. Moving on. The text refers to the birth of the Light and the Darkness. The way the Light is described, it sounds like an entity; is it God?”

“It is.” Hannah nodded.

“Then if the Light is an entity, is the Darkness also?” Shann asked.

“Indeed. The Darkness is God’s sister, Amara. That’s who we met with, yesterday.”

"Okay. So, if the Light and the Darkness are siblings who were born - who were their parents?"

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Balthazar are getting along better. ;)  
> Hmm. Who *were* God and Amara's parents? Shann asks good questions, doesn't he? ;)
> 
> Sorry, no art this chapter.
> 
> Please comment!
> 
> [Later today, I'm taking part in the May mini-GISH hunt, so this is probably the only chapter that will be posted today, but don't hold me to that. ;) ]


	168. More of Sunday Morning...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann gets busy. Chuck gets to the car. Rowena gets to Billie. Dean, Cas, and Balthazar get to a diner.

By the time Sam and Gabe finished cleaning up the kitchen and washing the breakfast dishes, Shann had finished speaking with Hannah (turned out, she didn’t know all that much, as one of the younger angels) and was hard at work, deep in the translation-and-note-taking, so much so, that when they came into the library, he didn’t even look up. 

They glanced at each other, and nodded - they’d let him lead, and come up for air when he was ready. For the moment, they’d do their own work, and when he wanted to talk, he could interrupt them. They didn’t know why he thought what he was working on was important, but it clearly  _ was  _ important  _ to him _ , and that’s all they needed to know.

For his part, Shann knew they were there. He wasn’t spaced out, just intensely focused on what he was doing.

_ So, that part’s different from the alternate universe text, as well. Interesting. _

***

Chuck ducked out the door at the rear of the sanctuary nearest to where they’d been seated as soon as the service ended and headed for Kathy’s car. He knew she’d want to speak with at least the pastor and a few other people, and he could wait, that was fine, but he couldn’t stand there with her, couldn’t be introduced, couldn’t … couldn’t… 

He took a deep breath, held it, counted to five, then let it out slowly. He braced himself against the door of the car, and closed his eyes, head down, just trying to even out his breathing, while he thought. 

_ I should have listened more, shouldn’t have tuned it all out, shouldn’t have spent so much time elsewhere.  _

_ Do they all really believe that of me? That I would put the forgiveness of the sins of  _ **_all_ ** _ of my creations on the life of one man,  _ **_any_ ** _ one man, much less one for whose birth I had personally been responsible as the father? I know I was a lousy father to my own kids, especially to Mike, Lucy, and Gabe. I manipulated them, I schemed against them for my own entertainment, and, yes, I was particularly nasty to Lucifer - but I didn’t  _ **_kill_ ** _ any of them!  _

_ Although, I  _ **_did_ ** _ kill Jack. And maybe I shouldn’t have. But, no, he was out of control, too much power, too young to know how to use it, and he’d already hurt and even killed people. He killed Mary Winchester with just a thought, an instinctual reaction. He was too dangerous. Better that he be taken out of play. I regret his death, of course, but it  _ **_was_ ** _ necessary. But even there, he was my grandson, not my own child! And he was  _ **_Lucifer’s_ ** _ child, and even though he was raised by Castiel, there’s really no way to predict, not even for me, how he’d have turned out, in the end.  _

Chuck opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, then closed the door. He rubbed his eyes gently.

_ Jesus wasn’t  _ **_my_ ** _ son, at least not more than any human is a part of my creation. I’ve never slept with a human! Okay, I came kinda close with Becky, and I might be close with Kathy, maybe (and that’s a nice thought!), but I never slept with Mary, Jesus’ mother! I didn’t even have a vessel back then, I always appeared through a talking burning bush, or I’d put my voice into the mouth of a prophet, or the hands of a prophet, once writing had been invented, but I never inhabited a human vessel… until now. Really wasn’t fair to Chuck-Shurley-the-prophet. And maybe not even to me, given all that I had to give up to do it.  _

_ Given the powers ascribed to Jesus, he was probably a Nephilim, and probably one of the Archangels’ kids. Like Jack. Jesus couldn’t have been Lucifer’s child; Lucy was still in the Cage, then.  _

_ I doubt he was Gabriel’s, either. Although, announcing his birth was the last thing Gabe did before he ran off.... But no, if he’d been Gabe’s kid, Gabe wouldn’t have run off, he’d have stuck around and guided his son. That leaves Michael, or Raphael. Had to have been one of the two of them. Mike, or Raph. _

_ Well, it’s about 2,000 years, give or take a few, too late for me to be wondering, now. And my beautiful boys, all four of them, are gone, now. Lucifer - stabbed by Dean while possessed by Michael. Michaell - dead and his grace consumed by Jack. Raphael - killed by Castiel, powered up with the creatures and souls from Purgatory. And Gabriel, killed in another universe, by another Michael, who is also now dead. _

Chuck sighed. He’d only been out of the church for about three minutes. Kathy would probably be in there, talking, a few minutes more, at least. He had to get himself together before she came out. She deserved an explanation of his behavior during the service.

***

Rowena moved quickly down the hall until she came to a small room off to the left. She ducked into it, waited a moment, then closed the door.

“I assume you’re here?” she asked.

Billie materialized. “Yep. What’s going on, Rowena? What’s got you so upset? Who’s hanging out in the Throne Room?”

“It’s  _ Malachai _ ,” Rowena hissed, quietly. “Keep your voice down.”

“I’m sorry, who? Who is ‘Malachai’, Rowena?”

Rowena took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Malachai is an ancient being. He may even pre-date God, Amara, and your predecessor as Death. It’s said he was alone in the void before Light and Darkness came to be. I came across a couple of different books that mentioned him in the course of my travels and studies.”

“Okay, so, he’s old. Why’s he got you so frightened?”

“He canna die. He canna be killed. Not even by you, Billie.”

“Says who? Him? How convenient.” Billie’s voice was extremely dry and sarcastic.

“Billie, this being is no joke! He can take any form, he can be a she, he can be a rock, he can become the scarf you wear around your neck, and choke you. Try to kill him, he’ll just take another form. Try to poison him, he becomes the poison and absorbs it into himself. There are about a million ways he can kill us, but he himself canna die! You need to take this seriously!”

“All right, Ro, settle down. Is he threatening you?”

“I had just taken the throne. The first time I was alone in the Throne Room, he appeared. Billie, he extinguished my soul,  _ and then brought it back _ .”

“Wait, now. He did what?”

“He extinguished my soul. I had only the tiniest amount of awareness, just enough to realize that I wasn’t in Hell, I wasn’t anywhere. _ I did not exist _ . And then, after no more than a few seconds, or that’s how long it seemed to me, at least, I was back in the Throne Room, he was on the throne, and I was on my knees before him. He reached down, and took my hand, stood up, brought me to my feet, and lifted me back onto the throne. He said just one word:  _ remember _ . And then he vanished. But he returned. Again and again. And now, any time I’m alone, he’s there. If I try to establish dominance, to assert my claim to the throne as Queen of Hell, he reminds me who holds the real power: him. He even said that I can play queen and be the figurehead all I like, but if I’m the Queen, then he’s the Emperor.”

Rowena, on the Throne of Hell 

“What does he want?”

“Damned if I know! So far, it appears he just wants to terrorize me! He doesn’t show himself to the demons, nor to me if anyone else is with me. When I’m not alone, he’s just a shadow, if he’s even there, but he always knows everything about what’s gone on. He may even be listening now, I don’t know!”

“All right, Ro, calm down. Look, I’ve been hanging out with the Winchesters. Right now, Sam has Lucifer and Michael residing in his head; they’re supposed to be dead, and they’re diminished in power, I don’t know to what extent, but they’re  _ there _ , is the point. Plus there’s another Lucifer that Castiel and I found yesterday, in the Empty. We brought him back with us, and he and Castiel are sharing a vessel now. Plus, Gabriel is back, as well. So, between them, we have four Archangels, two who have full power. Now, I don’t know if that’s enough to deal with this being, this…”

“Malachai!” Rowena hissed again.

“Malachai, right. But I’ll go see what they know. Now, you’d best get back, don’t let on that you know anything, hold yourself together, and we’ll see what we can do, okay?”

Rowena nodded. “Billie, I am more frightened now than I ever was in my life. Even of Lucifer.”

Billie laid a comforting hand on Rowena’s arm. “I get it, Ro.” Billie vanished.

Rowena took a deep breath, and headed back toward the Throne Room.

***

By noon, Dean was getting hungry. Plus, he wanted to offer Cas an opportunity to drive, if he wanted it. He wasn’t sure if he’d want it, given that he was trying to keep an eye out for bleed-through spots, but he wasn’t sure, and wanted to at least make the offer. So, he started to watch for likely spots to pull off the highway for lunch.

Dean spotted a sign advertising a diner, and commented on it. “I’m gonna stop for lunch, if that’s okay with you guys.”

Balthazar lazily waved his hand in acquiescence. Castiel nodded.

“I could use a cup of coffee, Dean,” Cas told him.

Dean pulled off at the next exit, and found the diner just up the road, as advertised. The parking lot had a few cars, but didn’t look too busy. 

He pulled in and parked, and they all got out of the car.

Dean looked at Balthazar, surprised. “You’re getting something, Balth?”

“Too hot in a parked car in the sun, even on a cold day, Dean. Besides, I could use some caffeine, myself.”

Dean nodded, and led the way inside.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder what's driving Shann? Why so compulsive, all of a sudden? ;)  
> Chuck's almost having a panic attack.   
> So is Rowena! ;)  
> Dean's still making progress, trying to think of Cas' needs and wants. So sweet! :)
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment! ;D


	169. Support Teams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathy is supportive of Chuck. Gabe is supportive of Shann. Billie figures something out, and asks that the Archangels support Rowena. Donna gets a phone call, then makes another to her support team.

Kathy opened the drivers’ side door of the car, and got in, then shut the door. She set her hands on the steering wheel, and took a deep breath, staring at the wheel for a full moment. Then she let the breath out slowly, and turned toward Chuck. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Chuck gave a little wave and a half-hearted smile, then gave it up, already knowing that Kathy wasn’t going to let him off the hook. He sighed. “You deserve an explanation.”

“Yes. But it can wait until after lunch.” She smiled. “Waffles, remember?”

Chuck blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Kathy nodded. “I  _ am  _ going to want that explanation, Chuck, you’re not off the hook; but I don’t need it right this minute. I already know that the service was more than a little disconcerting for you, and you said there were things that we’ve gotten wrong. I could tell you were agitated.” 

Chuck winced. “Yeah. I’m sorry about all the fidgeting.”

“It’s okay.” Kathy took his hand gently. “You didn’t have to come with me, but you did. You could have gotten up and left, but you stayed until the end. You were supportive of me; now, let me be supportive of you.”

Chuck was so surprised by that, that he simply stared at her for a moment; then a smile slowly crept across his face. “Thank you.”

***

Shann was wishing he’d had time to grab more than just the one text and his alternate self’s notes on it when he’d been in the alternate universe. 

_ I wonder what else is different, if the Bible is the same. It’d be a fascinating compare and contrast exercise. I mean, it’s not exactly like I could  _ **_publish_ ** _ any of this, but still…. _

He suddenly thought to get some more coffee, as it had surely been a while since breakfast. But when he went to pick up his mug, he found it was full and hot, steam rising from it, and doctored just the way he liked it.

_ Whoa. I know I haven’t been out of this chair for a couple of hours, so, how…. _

He looked up and glanced around, and Gabe grinned at him. 

“Welcome back.” 

“You got me coffee?”

“You were busy,” Gabe pointed out.

“You’re an  _ Archangel _ ,” Shann replied.

“True, and yet, irrelevant. What you’re doing is clearly important, at least to you, and it’s had you tied in knots all day yesterday, and now so far today, and I’m not doing anything that needs that kind of laser focus right now, so, if I can make your load lighter, I will. So, coffee.” 

Shann huffed out a laugh. “Seriously, this is the best job ever.”

Gabriel 

Gabe laughed. “So, now that you’ve come up for air for a bit, I hear you have questions. If I don’t know the answers, I can try to ask Lucifer or Michael for you, and we’ll see what we come up with. Go.”

“Um, okay, yeah, great. Thanks. Okay, so, Hannah confirmed that the Light is God, and that the Darkness is also an entity, God’s sister, and that she has a name, Amara. The texts I’ve been working with yesterday and today indicate that the Light and the Darkness were  _ born _ \- they didn’t just appear. So, my question was kind of basic, really: who were their parents?”

Gabe’s eyes widened a bit, and he tilted his head. “Wowzers. Well, to be honest, I don’t remember ever having, or ever even hearing about,  _ grandparents _ . The Light created us, and we always called him ‘Father,’ or, much later, ‘Dad.’ And his sister was always ‘Aunt Amara’ or ‘Auntie.’ The Darkness had no talent for creation; she could only destroy. So, for a long time, Dad would create something, and Auntie would destroy it. So, the story goes, he created a whole bunch of stuff, planets and whatnot, that he didn’t care about off in one corner of the void, and then moved quickly over to  _ this _ corner of it. And while Auntie was destroying the stuff he didn’t care about, he created this universe, and started filling it with things and entities. First, he built his lab. Then he created Michael; then Lucifer, about ten minutes later; he took a little bit of a break, then Raphael came next; and then me. He created us out of primordial ooze, basically, stuff he brought into the universe with him, from the void.”

“Okay. What do you know about ‘Malachai, the Monster, Destroyer of Worlds’? Hannah told me there was an angel with almost the same name, but spelled differently; this is a different entity, who pre-dates God.”

Gabe shrugged. “Nothing, man, never heard of him, so far as I know.”

“Well, here, this is from the text I was supposed to be translating - all it says about Malachai is this:

  * _In the days of old Malachai, the Monster, destroyer of worlds, came the Archangel to take the monster's place, cast down by the Lord into the depths of the prison realm, initially as a prisoner, later as Ruler, reigning in terror as He twisted souls to his dark purposes, seeking to reverse engineer the creation process._



“But here’s how the text that I brought back from the alternate universe describes him, translated - it’s different, though it’s supposed to be the same book, same author, same title: 

  * _“In the beginning, there was the void, and there was Malachai, called the Monster. Malachai floated, alone, in the void, for an inordinate amount of immeasurable time, as little more than a thought, a loose amalgam of sentient minerals. Over time, Malachai grew, both in size, and in power, but the Monster had no interest in either creation or destruction; often, the Monster simply slept. Later, after Light and Darkness were born, Malachai became interested in the creatures the Light took pleasure in bringing into being. Malachai enjoyed taking on their shapes, the monster’s form changing at its will, bubbling up from the blackness of the primordial ooze. Afraid of Malachai, due to the Monster’s immense age and seeming power, the Light created Hell to house Malachai, and all those who might corrupt his beloved creations. After the Light cast the Archangel into Hell and gave him dominion over the realm, the Archangel gave Malachai leave to abandon Hell, and Malachai returned to the void._



“See? The bit about Malachai is longer, and says completely different things.”

Gabe leaned forward. “Let me see those two notes?” Shann passed them over; Gabe read over them, then passed them back. “Huh.” Gabe looked stumped. “Honestly, I’ve never heard of a monster named Malachai, Shann.” 

“I have,” Billie said, as she materialized. 

Billie 

“A monster that simply sleeps, can change its form at will, ‘bubbling up from the blackness of the primordial ooze,’ older than Light and Darkness, who lives in the void?” Billie looked at Gabe pointedly. “Oh, Gabriel, c’mon.  _ You’ve met him _ .”

Gabe looked at her blankly.

“ _ The Cosmic Entity _ , Gabe. The entity that woke you in the Empty to send you back to help Castiel deal with God, and gave you the message about their deal? 

"Also, by the way, the same entity that’s currently terrorizing Rowena. She needs help, the more powerful, the better, and I'm thinking we've got four Archangels now, right?” Billie smiled.

***

Donna’s phone rang just as she was about to start eating her salad. She answered without looking to see who it was, then thought she really needed to remember not to do that when she heard the voice of the other caller.

“Donna, you bitch! You can’t have my attorney arrested!” 

Donna sighed. “Doug, I did not have your attorney arrested. But y’know, if your attorney got arrested for some reason, you might want to consider hiring a different one. It’s generally frowned upon.”

“I know you did this! You paid someone off!”

“No, I didn’t, Doug. I had nothing to do with your attorney’s arrest. Don’t call here again, Doug.” 

Donna ended the call, then dialed Jody’s cell.

“Hey, guess who just called me to complain about his attorney having been arrested?” Donna laughed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having fun writing Chuck and Kathy together. :) She's such a sweetheart. And to think, none of you liked her, back in Ch. 29! LOL
> 
> Gabe's a little slow on the uptake, but at least he's being helpful. ;) 
> 
> Billie figured it out! And if YOU guessed that Malachai and The Cosmic Entity were the same being, congrats! You win... um... well, nothing, actually. But you do get to say you were right! Yay, you! ;D
> 
> Yay, Doug's attorney got arrested! Gee, what do you suppose the charges will be? Think he'll get disbarred? ;)
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment!!!!!!


	170. Sunday Diners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Balthazar, and Castiel (with Lucifer) stop at a diner for lunch. Chuck and Kathy go to a diner for waffles.

Once inside the diner, Dean headed toward the restroom. Castiel and Balthazar chose a booth in a far corner and each slid as far in to the bench seats as they could.

The waitress came over, and Cas smiled up at her politely. “Just coffee for me and for him, but we have a third person with us who’ll be getting lunch; he’ll be back in a second.”

“Is this third guy gonna want coffee, too?”

“I’m not sure. He might, but he might get something else, instead,” Cas told her.

“Okay. Two cups of joe for now, coming right up.” She walked off, chewing her gum.

“Cassie, are you certain that you’re all right? If you want, I could take Lucifer for a while for you.” Balthazar’s concern for his friend showed on his face and in the tension of his shoulders. 

“I’m fine, but thank you.” Castiel paused a second, then continued, “And Lucifer thanks you, too, for being concerned for me, and says to tell you that even though it isn’t necessary, he’s glad you’ve got my back. He says he’d also like to thank you for offering, which means that you must be starting to trust him again, at least a little bit, and he appreciates it.”

“I assume he can hear me?”

Castiel nodded.

“Lucifer, you’ve seemed to be no problem for our Cassie this time around, and I appreciate that. But I’m  _ also  _ offering because Cas is newly betrothed, and they might, at some point, want some privacy. Also because while Dean may not have thought of it yet, Castiel agreed to let you in without consulting Dean, and they’ve had some issues with being able to trust each other not to run off and do things without proper planning. I don’t want Dean to think Cas was regressing.”

Castiel looked somber. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“It doesn’t appear that Dean has, yet. But I imagine it’ll hit him later today. You might want to be alone in your vessel before it does, Cassie.”

“It was an emergency situation, there wasn’t time to get everyone’s approval, we had to act.”

“And if you say that while Lucifer is still in there with you, you know how Dean will react, Cas.”

Castiel sighed, and nodded. “You’re right, Balth.”

“It doesn’t have to be me. I’m just saying, I’d be willing to house Lucifer, on the same terms that you’ve got him now, at least temporarily. I’d do a lot for you, Castiel.”

“You’ve done a lot for me already, Balthazar.” Castiel smiled. Cas paused and seemed to be listening again. “No, Nick is dead. Jack killed him at the same time he blasted you back to the Empty.”

“Here comes Dean,” Balthazar noted.

“Hey,” Dean smiled as he slid in to the booth next to Castiel. “Did you order?”

“We ordered coffee for us, but I wasn’t sure what you were going to want, so I didn’t order for you,” Cas told him.

“That’s fine. I’m going to look at the menu quick, then.” Dean picked it up and flipped it open.

Just then, the waitress returned with two cups of coffee. “Hey, they said you were going to be eating. You know what you want?”

Dean smiled up at her as she popped her gum. “Yes. I’ll have a double cheeseburger with bacon, hold the lettuce, extra mayo, fries on the side, and a Coke.”

“Pepsi okay?”

“Sure.”

“Be back with your drink in a minute.” She walked away.

Dean turned to Castiel. “So, hey, Cas, there’s something I need to tell you. I was thinking, earlier, that maybe you’d want to drive Baby again, but if you’re too busy trying to pick up on potential bleed-through spots to want to add driving to the list of things you have to worry about, it’s fine, I can keep going. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you’re welcome to drive her, if you want.” Dean smiled.

Dean and Cas 

Castiel flushed a little. “Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me, as you know. But I have something I need to tell you, too. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” 

Just then, the waitress returned with Dean’s soda. “Here ya go.” She wandered off again.

“Balthazar made me see that my actions yesterday could be seen as reckless, as once again haring off without warning, taking off with Billie, letting Lucifer in - and you  _ were  _ upset when you first found out about that, Dean - so I apologize. I should have considered your feelings, and …”

“And what? Looped me in? How would you have done that, Cas? You didn’t know where I’d gone, when you left with Billie. You didn’t know that I was behind you, or that I saw you vanish with her. I assume you looked for me, before taking off, right? And didn’t find me? 

“And when you came back, with Lucifer, and you needed to get in to the Bunker, needed his powers to lessen the excessive wards, so you could check on Sam, what do you think you ought to have done, then, Cas? Called me first to check? No. You acted reasonably under the circumstances. 

“Yes, I was upset when you first said you’d let Lucifer in, but then you and Billie reassured me as to his intentions, and he’s been good so far. Now, if you could find a willing vessel to hand him off to, would I like that? Sure. But in the meantime, he’s letting you drive, letting you use his powers, and you seem none the worse for wear. 

“So, I’m fine, Cas. Now, would you like to drive?”

***

Chuck and Kathy entered the diner, and looked for an empty table. Chuck spotted and pointed to a booth in the back, and Kathy nodded, then put her hand on his arm.

“You go ahead and grab the table, I just saw someone I didn’t get a chance to greet at church. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Chuck nodded, and headed for the table, while Kathy moved to greet her friends over by the window. He slid into the booth and watched her as she spoke easily with the couple, laughing occasionally. He smiled softly, then picked up the menu to study it, even though he was pretty sure he wanted the strawberry waffles.

Kathy came over and slid into the other side of the booth. “Hey.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“I don’t deserve you,” he told her.

Kathy quietly huffed out a laugh. “What brought that on?”

“I mean it. You’re gracious, and kind, and beautiful. Honestly, Kath, what...what are you doing with me?”

Kathy looked down for a moment. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of an insecure God, but she knew that Chuck was being sincere, and didn’t want to make light of it.

“Chuck, I won’t deny that you have flaws. You have issues. But so do I.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “You’ve said that you created more than one universe, and that the reason why is that even your powers have limits, and you can’t bend time to take back your own actions and fix things. Once you act, that’s it. Right?”

Chuck nodded.

“You might be able to fix something someone else did, but for the most part, you prefer not to. You’re a hands-off kinda deity, because fixing things in some sense almost always causes some other problem, if not immediately, then down the road. Yes?”

Chuck nodded again.

“But clearly you regret some of the things you’ve done. The way you treated your kids, for one; you’ve said that you wish you could go back and undo some of the things you did, especially to Lucifer. You told me you even apologized to him at one point, right?”

“Right. But I don’t see where you’re going with all this, Kathy.”

“Just to say this, Chuck. You have great power, but with great power comes great responsibility. You’ve had to hold yourself back and let your children and your creations stretch our own wings, and think for ourselves. You can’t hold our hands our whole lives, we’d never learn, never evolve. But that means that we make mistakes, and you can’t fix them for us. So, we learn from them. _So, what have you learned yourself from the mistakes that you’ve made?_ If you could fix things, what would you fix? You’d go back and be a better father to at least Lucifer, Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael, right?”

Chuck nodded again.

“You’d have treated them better? Not done quite so much to them and to the Winchesters for your own entertainment?”

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts. Chuck, _everyone_ has regrets about how they’ve lived their lives, in one form or another. _Every_ parent wishes they’d done something different with their kids, spent more time with them, whatever. You are not alone in your regret. And no more than we can, you can’t go back and change the past. So, like us, all you can do is go forward, and try harder to be the entity you want to be. And you’re doing that. So, don’t be so hard on yourself. Relax.” She patted his hand gently, and then picked up her menu. 

“Now then. Waffles?”

“Waffles.” 

Kathy glanced at Chuck over the top of her menu; she could tell he was thinking about what she’d said. She let herself have a tiny smile, then went back to looking over the list of waffle toppings. 

_ Waffles are serious business. _

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, it's all about the food, right? Nothing else happened in this chapter... not at all! LOL
> 
> Dean's making progress, not overreacting, not acting at all how the angels have come to expect him to act. He's giving Cas space, trusting in his judgment more, and letting him drive Baby again! Yay, Dean! ;)
> 
> Aww, Kathy's so good for Chuck, isn't she? ;D 
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment! Let me know you're still out there! Is everyone getting notifications again now? I know AO3's email issue affected some people getting theirs for a while, there. Come say hi!
> 
> We're almost to 300,000 words. This story is essentially now a trilogy of novels, all in one. ;)


	171. The Monster's Point of View, and More of Sunday Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets dangerously twitchy and Gabe has to knock him out. Shann continues to translate the text from the alternate universe. Malachai remembers. Dean journals while Cas drives.

So as not to disturb Shann (not that he really thought it would have been possible, with the focus being displayed there), Sam had taken the text that _he_ was translating into the War Room and set up to work at the conference table there. He’d gotten started, but every time he turned a page, he found himself stopping to just look around blankly. He felt… itchy in his own skin. Not like he had a mosquito bite that he actually needed to scratch, but just like he needed to be moving, doing something active. Sitting still, trying to concentrate - it just wasn’t in the cards. 

Before he’d realized he was getting up from the table, he found himself pacing back and forth. He stopped, and gripped the back of a chair tightly. He felt out of control, almost dizzy, like his head was going to come off any second now. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, but that actually made the almost-dizzy feeling worse, instead of better.

He drummed his hands against the back of the chair, and looked around. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, so he felt a bit ridiculous, but he couldn’t pick a single spot on the wall to look at - even his eyes needed to be moving.

Just then, Gabe came out of the library. Sam sighed with relief.

“Oh, good. Gabe, I need to go for a run.”

“Ah, negatory, Samshine. We haven’t found and fixed potential bleed-through spots outside of the bunker yet, and I’m waiting until Cas gets back for that.”

“Gabe. _You’re not hearing me. **I**_ **_need_ ** **_to go for a run_**.”

Gabriel clued in, and really looked at Sam. “Oh. Okay. What’s wrong, Sam?”

Sam shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know. I feel... _twitchy_ , can’t sit still, can’t even just _look_ at just one thing, gotta move, gotta _go_ , gotta, gotta… Gabe, _I need to go running_.”

Gabe nodded, realizing that Sam was really just asking for help. He steered Sam down the hall and into the bedroom they shared, guided Sam to the bed, and helped him lie down. Gabe laid two fingers against Sam’s forehead, and gently knocked Sam out.

“Just rest, love.”

He pulled the desk chair over next to the bedside, and sat down to watch over his charge. 

***

Shann was back to being lost in his translation work, going back and forth between his own original text and the one from the alternate universe. He continued to find differences between the two texts, so he had decided to go all the way through the alternate universe text first, and get that translated to English, then go back and translate his own text, and then compare the two translated versions.

The alternate universe text was very dense, and while the language was modern Spanish, the phrasing often seemed to belong to an older time, not quite stilted, but very formal. He tried to maintain the formality as he went along.

  * **_Al principio, no había nada, porque no se permitía nada, nada podía existir, todo se descomponía en nada más que el fango negro y espeso que burbujeaba en toda la gran extensión. Lentamente, a lo largo del tiempo, los elementos comenzaron a formarse nuevamente, los átomos se combinaron para formar moléculas que se combinaron para formar ... cosas. Minerales. Minerales sensibles. Monstruos. Monstruos como Malachai, llamado el Monstruo, el destructor de mundos._** **** ****
  * **_In the beginning, there was nothing, because nothing was allowed to be, nothing could exist, everything was broken down into nothing more than the black soupy mire that bubbled throughout the great expanse. Slowly, over great time, the elements began to re-form, atoms combining to form molecules combining to form … things. Minerals. Sentient minerals. Monsters. Monsters such as Malachai, called the Monster, the destroyer of worlds._**



***

Malachai preferred to sleep. It wasn’t that the monster needed the rest; rather, it was that the sentient minerals that had taken on that name sometimes wished they hadn’t developed sentience. Sentience meant recognition and remembrance - of self, of others, of emotion, of loss, of pain. Malachai remembered too much, awake. Asleep, the monster could forget. Forget the pain of the losses Malachai had suffered. And suffer the monster had. 

The loss of the others had been unbearable at the beginning, when the void came into being. The monster could just barely remember now back to before the void. The explosion. Yes. Being flung out into...nothing. A vast empty nothingness that pulled Malachai apart, because nothing was allowed to be, nothing could exist, everything was broken down into nothing more than the black soupy mire that bubbled throughout the great expanse. 

Until the elements began to re-form, atoms combining to form molecules combining to form … things. Minerals. Sentient minerals, with vague painful memories of the time before.

Malachai had initially thought that he was alone. But over time, he had discovered that there were other monsters in the void, some as old as Malachai, some much younger. Some hunted; others were prey. Some were beloved. Most of the beloved had been lost, as well, and that meant more pain.

Memories, pain, suffering, the monster wanted, needed, to avoid. 

Sleep. Yes. Sleep. 

But, no. Malachai had a purpose now. He mustn’t forget. He _had_ to stay awake.

Just until it was done.

***

They were back on the road. Castiel was driving, and loving it. He’d told Dean that watching the road for the purpose of driving was the same as watching the road for bleed-through spots, and he might as well be doing both at once. That way, he’d said, Dean could write in his journal.

So, now both angels were in the front seat, and Dean was in the back seat, sitting in the passenger-side corner of the bench seat, his left leg up on the seat, knee bent to create a makeshift writing desk, his right leg down, foot braced against the floor of the Impala. His notebook was propped up against his left thigh. He uncapped his pen with one hand and his teeth, found a blank page, and began.

***

**_Sunday afternoon_ **

_At the end of my last journal entry, we were waiting. Cas and Billie had gone off to the Empty, Balthazar had gone to Heaven, and Violet had gone to Hell, all to find out what they could about the multiple universes bleeding through to this one suddenly. They’d all been gone for hours longer than we had expected they would be, and we’d had no word from them. Gabe was starting to unravel from worry for Sam. I was only barely holding it together, myself._

_Then Balthazar returned from Heaven. Inias (who is currently holding down the fort upstairs for Cas) didn’t know anything about the bleed-through situation, but was quick to grasp the consequences that it could have for Heaven. Heaven in our universe has sufficient space for our universe’s souls, but not for souls for other universes. If only one person were to go through a bleed-through spot from another universe, end up in ours, and then die, that might be all right, but if many people died here, not belonging to this universe, our universe’s Heaven would start to fill up, and once admitted, it would be too hard to sort through who belonged, and who didn’t. So, Inias closed Heaven, as a precaution, as soon as Balthazar had left, figuring that it was better to leave a few souls temporarily in the veil than to make mistakes about who got into Heaven here in this universe._

_Balthazar asked if I’d heard from Cas yet, and I hadn’t, so I tried his cell phone again. This time, he answered. He and Billie were at the Bunker, and they were safe, along with Sam, Shann, and Sam’s reaper-observer, Alicia. Although Amara agreed to remove Lucifer and Michael from Sam’s memory palace, they are reportedly still in residence._

_But Cas and Billie weren’t the only ones to return from the Empty; while there, they found_ **_another_ ** _Lucifer, and they brought him back with them. Once here, it developed that the form in which this Lucifer was appearing was an illusion, which he had to shed, and then he needed a vessel through which to channel his powers. The Bunker was excessively warded, and they couldn’t get in without using Lucifer’s powers to strip the wards, so Cas let him in, and they are again sharing a vessel. Fortunately, this Lucifer is also no longer corrupted by the Mark, and he is letting Cas drive - Cas can access Lucifer’s powers, while Cas remains in charge of the vessel. Lucifer is awake and listening, and apparently occasionally making suggestions to Cas, but otherwise being passive, calm, and helpful._

_Once they had the Bunker open, Gabe flew there to be with Sam. Gabe, Cas, and Lucifer worked together to clear the Bunker of spots where alternate universes were bleeding through to this one, and then Cas flew back to the cabin to be with me, and went around the cabin using Lucifer’s powers to shore up the bleed-through spots in the cabin, as well._

_By the time Cas arrived, I was asleep on the couch in the living room. I woke up this morning in the bed we’d shared the night before, and for a moment upon awakening, I felt lost. Then I realized he was lying beside me, waiting for me to awaken, and I felt whole. Cas hadn’t slept, but his own grace was fully recharged and he had Lucifer’s to draw on as well, so he didn’t need to sleep._

_We talked about calling Jody and Donna, warning them about the bleed-through situation, and about Cas possibly flying up to Sioux Falls later on, to tell Claire about us being engaged. We’re assuming that I still can’t be there, but Cas is not now, nor has he ever been, wanted by the Secret Service or on the FBI’s 10 most wanted list. They may think I’m dead, but those agents know my face, and presumably my connection to Bobby Singer and Sioux Falls. They don’t know Castiel. He’s safe to go; I’m not. And I don’t want to wait to tell Claire. Maybe he could go up and bring her back to the Bunker, though. I’ll ask him. It would be nice to tell her together._

_We got up, I got some coffee in me, we finished cleaning up the cabin, we packed up the car, and then Cas and Balthazar waited in Baby while I did a final sweep - made sure the coffeemaker and stove were turned off, we got all the trash, we had repainted everything properly and completely covered the warding, etc. - basically made sure that we were leaving the cabin better than we found it. And then we got on the road. I was driving, Cas sitting next to me, watching for bleed-through spots that needed to be fixed before we drove through them accidentally, Balthazar lying down in the back seat, passively lending his power to Cas._

_We stopped for lunch - for me, at least; the angels just drank coffee, as usual (I’m surprised there’s no Starbucks up in Heaven, what with these guys being so addicted to caffeine) - and I told Cas that if he wanted to drive after lunch, he could, but that if it was going to be too difficult to drive while simultaneously watching for and fixing bleed-through spots, then I could keep going._

_Then he apologized to me for yesterday - for going off with Billie, and for letting Lucifer in. He said that Balthazar had pointed out to him that his actions could be seen as him being reckless, him going off and doing his own thing without thinking about how his actions might impact others. I said that he couldn’t have checked with me about whether or not to go with Billie to the Empty before they left - the reason they left was that they couldn’t find the rest of us - and that faced with the excessive warding they found on the Bunker, which made it impossible for them to get in to check on Sam, using Lucifer’s powers was the only reasonable solution, and to do that, he’d had to become a conduit. I got it - there was no need for him to apologize, because there was nothing to forgive._

_The whole conversation made me realize how often I had previously gotten angry at Cas, yelled at him, or, worse, walked away from him, because he’d taken a reasonable action under the circumstances at the time. Sure, some of those actions had backfired, but looking at them from his perspective, he’d always tried to do the right thing. Cas only ever wants to help, and I’ve screamed at him for it so often that now he thinks he needs to apologize just because he used his best judgment, even when it hasn’t backfired. And apparently, his friends feel a need to counsel him to do so - to tell me he’s sorry before I can lay into him, to hopefully defuse my temper before I light into him again._

_I think I actually astonished him, and Balthazar. I don’t like that my reaction was surprising to them, but I understand why it would be. I like to think that’s progress, on both counts._

_I had so much anger inside of me, for so long. I lashed out so often, so much, for all the wrong reasons, and at all the wrong people, especially Cas. I see now how much damage that anger did, not only to me, but to all those around me, everyone I love, and I’m so sorry for it, but I’m not going to wallow any longer in the misery and shame that regret and remorse could engender. I refuse to drag myself back down into that morass of bad feelings. I see it, I acknowledge it, and now, I’m going to let it go. Because that’s the healthy thing to do._

_I could tell Cas that I’ll be different going forward, but he’ll have to_ **_see_ ** _me actually_ **_being_ ** _different, every time, not just once, in order to believe it. There’s no point in saying the words, when consistent action will speak more loudly anyway._

_The only words that are important now are the positive happy words like, “I love you,” “I want you,” and “I need you.” Oh, and “so, do you want to drive?” Because letting Cas drive makes Cas happy, and making my angel happy makes me happy._

_I like being happy. I think I forgot that, somewhere along the way._

***

Dean recapped his pen, put the notebook down, and decided to wait to write his letter to himself until later; for now, he wanted to close his eyes for a bit to rest them.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh. What's up with Sammy?
> 
> Shann's translation gives us a bit more of Malachai's origin story, then Malachai remembers a bit more of it for us. Others were lost when the void came into being through an explosion that threw him out into a vast empty nothingness that pulled him apart. Sounds like a big bang... ;D
> 
> And Dean's making progress. He reacted the right way to what Cas told him, he recognized that he had done so, he recognized that his lack of reaction surprised Cas and Balth, he realized he didn't like that it surprised them, but he understood why it would, and he recognized his own progress. He's letting go of the anger that's had him trapped for so long. He recognizes that it's not just taking action occasionally, but taking action consistently, that will allow others to see the progress that he can see for himself, and he's committing to that consistent action, because he wants to be happy. So. Much. Progress! :D
> 
> No art this chapter, partly because my scanner's on the fritz, and partly because this was already kind of a long chapter. No art, more words. ;)
> 
> Please comment!!!


	172. Translating Thought to Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann continues his translating work, and finds out that Malachai was not, in fact, alone in the void. Still on their way back to the Bunker, Dean writes his daily letter to himself at a younger age, while Castiel continues to drive.

Shann was starting to feel the strain of sitting still too long. He needed to get up and walk around. But the work was just so fascinating; he didn’t want to put it down.

  * **_Delilah (más tarde llamada El Compañero del Monstruo, Solucionador de Problemas, por su alegría y creatividad al ensamblar los bloques de construcción básicos de la creación en herramientas utilizables) tardó más en formarse nuevamente después de la explosión, e, incluso cuando se había reunido en su nueva forma, no se encontraron ni se recordaron de inmediato. Los recuerdos de Malachai de antes de la explosión eran borrosos e imprecisos en el mejor de los casos; Los de Delilah eran indistintos y lentos en regresar, en parte debido a su abrumador dolor y al miedo a una pérdida adicional._** **** ****
  * _**Delilah (later called The Monster’s Mate, Solver of Problems, for her joy and creativity in assembling the base building blocks of creation into usable tools) took longer to form up again after the explosion, and, even when she had come back together in her new form, they neither found nor remembered each other immediately. Malachai’s memories from before the explosion were hazy and imprecise at best; Delilah’s were indistinct and slow to return, partially due to her overweening grief and fear of additional loss.**_



_ So, the gist of this seems to be that Malachai, and his mate, Delilah, went through some form of transmutation after an explosion that threw them out into … space, I guess? They lost everything and everyone, even themselves, and were broken down into … well, goop, I guess, from what I was reading earlier, not even consisting of coherent atoms. Eventually, the atoms re-formed, then combined into molecules, from molecules into minerals, the minerals gained sentience, and Malachai and Delilah, over time, took on new forms, regained hazy memories from the time before the explosion occurred, eventually found each other, and even later, remembered each other. Delilah was apparently resistant to remembering anything, because she grieved and feared additional loss. Wow, that’s so sad. _

  * **_Incluso una vez que cada uno se permitió recordar al otro, Malachai y Delilah tuvieron dificultades para permanecer juntos, o incluso para quedarse en un lugar, por mucho tiempo. Delilah temía volverse demasiado apegada. Malachai trató de señalar que si hubieran sobrevivido tanto, era poco probable que cualquier otra cosa que se les ocurriera pudiera matarlos, y aunque Delilah reconoció la lógica, su terror era demasiado grande como para que la razón lo superara. Entonces, se unirían, y luego ella desaparecería por un tiempo, una y otra vez._** **** ****
  * _**Even once they each allowed themselves to remember the other, Malachai and Delilah had difficulty staying together, or even just to stay in any one place, for very long. Delilah feared becoming too attached. Malachai tried to point out that if they had survived that much, it was unlikely that anything else that came their way was going to be able to kill them, and while Delilah recognized the logic, her terror was too great for reason to overcome. So, they would come together, and then she would disappear for a time, over and over.**_



_ Man. That’s horrible, to be so afraid of losing someone that you keep pushing them away, even as you constantly return to them.  _

  * **_Malachai pensó que estaba progresando con los temores de Delilah. Ella se quedaría con él un poco más cada vez que se encontraran. Estaba empezando a recordar su amor, pensó, y pensó que podía trabajar con eso, tratar de atarla a él de una manera más sustancial. Todavía eran poco más que minerales sensibles, pero ambos estaban experimentando con el uso de la capa negra del vacío para convertirse en formas utilizables. Malachai comenzó a deleitarse probando diferentes formas, pero trató de tener siempre una sola forma cada vez que sentía que Delilah estaba cerca. No quería darle una razón para huir; su propia forma básica probablemente era lo suficientemente aterradora; cambiaba demasiado, con demasiada frecuencia, y ella dejaría de aceptarlo como él, temía._** **** ****
  * _**Malachai thought he was making progress with Delilah’s fears. She would stay with him a little longer each time they met. She was starting to remember their love, he thought, and he thought he could work with that, try to tie her to him in a more substantial way. They were still little more than sentient minerals, but they were both experimenting with using the black goop of the void to build themselves up into usable forms. Malachai began to take delight in trying different shapes, but he tried to always have himself in just one form whenever he sensed Delilah was near. He did not want to give her a reason to flee; his own basic form was likely frightening enough; change too much, too often, and she would stop accepting him as him, he feared.**_



_ Hmm. That seems a little manipulative - “trying to tie her to him,” changing shape when she’s not around, but when she is, only giving her the basic, familiar form and not letting her know about the other forms he takes. I mean, I get it. He wants her to stay with him, he loves her; but shouldn’t it be her choice, and shouldn’t her choice be informed? How can she love him if she doesn’t know him in all his forms? _

Shann feverishly took copious notes. He didn’t have any idea how this translating work about something that apparently happened millennia ago would end up being relevant now, but he was  _ somehow  _ sure that it would. 

***

Dean opened his eyes, then rubbed at them a bit. “How long until we’re home, Cas?”

“I’d say about another hour, Dean. Do you want to drive, my heart? I could find a place to pull over.”

“No, I still have some writing to do. Unless you’re tired?”

Dean 

“No. I’m fine. I’m enjoying the drive.” Castiel smiled, looking at Dean for a moment in the rearview mirror.

Dean smiled back, then got his notebook back out, propped it up against his thigh, and uncapped his pen.

***

_ Dear Dean, _

_ You’re 33. You’ve lost your mother at age 4, your biological father at age 28, and now you’re losing your second father. Bobby is dying, shot in the head by Dick Roman while you, he, and Sam were escaping in a van from a Leviathan stronghold.  _

_ You and Sam got Bobby to the hospital, but he sank into a coma; his brain is swelling. They rush him off for tests; you and Sam wait in terror at the prospect of losing Bobby. Eventually, he’s wheeled back into the trauma center, but you and Sam are out in the hall while they continue to work on him. _

_ A nurse comes to tell you both that you can see him, but warns you that you’ll probably just be saying goodbye. He can’t survive. You take a moment to steel yourself; you don’t want to waste time with Bobby in useless emotion. You go in by his bedside. _

_ He wakes for a moment. The nurse is astonished. He gestures for something to write with, and you give him a pen and some paper. He writes some numbers, then he looks up at you, at Sam. He smiles fondly, and says just one word: “Idjits.” And then the EKG flatlines; he’s gone. _

_ But that’s not the last you’ll see of Bobby. He refuses to go with the reaper that comes for him, and grounds himself in his old silver flask, which he knows you love. Of course, you keep it, unwilling to let go of Bobby completely.  _

_ You and Sam give Bobby a hunter’s funeral, burning him in a pyre. So, when papers start moving around, helpfully leading to an answer Sam’s been looking for, you dismiss out of hand the notion that it might be Bobby’s ghost. You also dismiss it when a book falls from a desk, leading you to a business card Bobby had hidden away for the exact person you need to speak to to get help for Sam. _

_ It’s Garth who realizes that Bobby is haunting the flask, after taking an EMF reading that clearly establishes some kind of spirit centered in it. You don’t believe it. You almost leave the flask behind in a motel room, but you remember it at the last second and go back for it. _

_ Later, an old friend of Bobby’s, yours, and Sam’s - Annie Hawkins - disappears. She was supposed to meet you and Sam for lunch, but doesn’t show. You and Sam follow her trail to the Van Ness House, long reputed to be haunted. You have the flask in your pocket, so Bobby tags along, and he sees Annie’s ghost, trapped in the house. A couple ghosts who have been there a while give Bobby and Annie tips on how to materialize and move things - either by getting very angry and using the rage, or by being very calm to gather power - and Bobby is finally able to make you and Sam see him. _

_ Bobby explains to you and Sam what he discovered about Roman’s plan to turn humans into passive livestock for the Leviathans to eat. The explanation is interrupted when you receive an email sent automatically by Frank Devereaux’s hard drive in response to it being hacked; the email gives the hacker’s location - Richard Roman Enterprises, the headquarters of the Leviathans. Bobby suggests finding a way of getting the flask inside the building, but you and Sam decide to find the hacker, instead. You meet the hacker, Charlie Bradbury, and she agrees to help. She leaves to return to her workstation at Roman’s building, but before she goes, Bobby sneaks the flask into her purse. He watches while she undertakes the mission, and when Dick Roman discovers her doublecross and chases her through the building, Bobby slows him and the guards down, allowing Charlie to escape, but also injuring her. _

_ Later still, Bobby’s need for revenge against Roman causes him to snap; he possesses a hotel maid to be able to go after Roman on his own. When Sam tries to stop him, Bobby tries to strangle Sam for interfering, but at the last moment, sees the maid’s reflection and realizes what he’s become. He abandons her body. He comes to you and tells you that, while he’s regained control, it’s likely only temporary. He asks you to melt down the flask so he’ll have to move on. He says you should kill Roman, but because Roman’s a literal monster, not to seek vengeance. He makes you promise that when you eventually die, you’ll move on and not try to stay in the world as a spirit, as he did. You and Sam melt the flask and watch Bobby go up in flames. _

_ While it meant losing Bobby twice, being haunted by him also meant that you got something from him that you never got from John - closure. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to John, not until years later, and because John died in a demon deal with Azazel to save your life, you had a tremendous case of survivor’s guilt over it. With Bobby’s death, although you were, of course, saddened by it, you knew you were not responsible for it. Roman was. Bobby’s subsequent haunting of his flask gave you time to say a proper farewell, and when you melted down the flask, it was at Bobby’s own request, something he needed, with which you could feel you helped him. No guilt necessary. _

_ The constant need I feel to compare and contrast John with Bobby seems repetitive even to me, but I am still so conflicted by my feelings for John, even now. There’s no such conflict in my feelings about Bobby. I both love and hate John, simultaneously. With Bobby, there’s only love. I both miss John, and feel relieved that he’s gone, knowing that I’d never be free to live my life the way I want to if he were still here. With Bobby, I just miss him, and know that he’d accept whatever I chose, so long as it made me happy. John would likely disapprove of my relationship with Castiel. Bobby would be happy for us. John never met Cas - he died before we learned of the existence of angels, and the role that Sam and I were supposedly destined to play in the Apocalypse. Bobby knew Cas, and had accepted him as family; though he never got to see us actually together, I know he’d be pleased. Pleased that I took a risk, and pleased that it was with Cas.  _

_ Dean, for all intents and purposes, Bobby  _ **_was_ ** _ your father. I know you mourn him, but don’t get lost in your grief. You have things to do. You know that he loved you; he knew that you loved him. Let him go.  _

**_Burn the flask_ ** _. And when your own time comes, don’t seek a flask of your own. Keep your promise, and move on. But until then, remember that people love you. Let them in. Love them back. Tell them how you feel.  _

_ I wish that I had told Cas how I felt about him when I was the age you are now…. I didn’t. That’s on me. _

_ But I have told him, now. That’s how I know how much better life could have been. Because it’s so much better now. _

_ You’ll get here, eventually. Let yourself believe it. _

_ Dean _

***

Dean recapped his pen, put his notebook back in his duffle bag, and sat up to look out the window. 

Cas noticed his movements. “We’re almost back to the Bunker, Dean.” 

Dean nodded. “So I see.” 

He smiled at his fiancé, then stretched out his left hand to gently grip Cas' right shoulder for a moment, silently saying, "I love you," and knew that Cas understood.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That's horrible, to be so afraid of losing someone that you keep pushing them away, even as you constantly return to them." Sound like anyone else we know? :D
> 
> So, Malachai has - or had - a mate, Delilah. Hmm. ;)
> 
> Dean writing to his younger self about Bobby's death, and comparing/contrasting how he felt about Bobby dying with how he felt after John's death - whew. (That was hard to write. I need a nap.) And at the end, the advice he gives his younger self - "Burn the flask. And when your own time comes, don't seek a flask of your own. Keep your promise, and move on. But until then, remember that people love you. Let them in. Love them back. Tell them how you feel.... You'll get here, eventually. Let yourself believe it." So. Much. PROGRESS. So proud of Dean. :)
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Please comment! 
> 
> [How's it going, coming out of quarantine? You all holding up okay? Did you rush right out to the bar, or are you one of the more slow-moving? Myself, I'm moving slow, but I'm immunocompromised and so, high-risk.]


	173. Explanations and Offers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck explains to Kathy why he got upset at church. Cas, Balthazar, and Dean get back to the Bunker; Hannah asks Cas to go with Shann to make sure he gets back to his apartment safely. On the way, Cas extends an offer from Lucifer to Shann. Shann decides to sleep on it.

Chuck held the door for Kathy, then followed her into the cabin.

“Thank you for today, Kathy. Lunch was really nice. The strawberries were actually fresh, and the whipped cream didn't dissolve too quickly. Yum! And, hey, y'know, I’m really sorry that church didn’t go as well as you’d hoped.”

Kathy hung her coat and purse on the peg by the door, sat down on the couch, and patted the cushion next to her. “Come and talk to me, Chuck.”

“Moment of reckoning, huh?”

“No, I’m not angry. I’m concerned. I know you were upset, I’d just like to know why.” She smiled at him as he sat down next to her, and he was struck again with the feeling that she could do so much better than him. Chuck shook his head wistfully.

“Kathy, before I get into how I acted at the church, I need to say something to you. I know that I pushed my way in here, quite literally, and that you were, and maybe had reason to be, afraid of me, then. I just wanna say, I hope you’re not afraid of me now. I hope that you know that I would never hurt you, and that if you want to tell me to get lost, I’d understand, and I’d go, and not give you any hassle. If you really want to be with me, that’s amazing, and if that’s real, then you should know that you make me really happy. But if you don’t want to be with me, if you’re just sticking with me because you feel sorry for me, or because you think I might do something to you, or to someone else, if you kicked me out, I wouldn’t, and I’d rather you kicked me out than pretend. I’m not saying you are pretending, I just want to make sure that you know - you don’t have to. You never have to. I would never hurt you, Kathy. So, um, I just needed to be certain you knew that.”

Kathy smiled gently. “I already knew that.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.”

“But thank you for being so clear about it.” She patted his arm lightly, and turned slightly toward him. “Chuck, whatever was going through your head during the service, I’m interested. I know you were upset, and I just want to be sure that you know that I am not upset with you, okay? I just want to know what’s going on with you, that’s all.”

Chuck nodded. “I.. I know. Okay, so, here’s the first thing: um… Jesus _wasn’t_ my son.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“So, when all through the service they kept referring to him as “the only begotten son of God” or when they’d say “for God so loved his only son,” it was just, well, _weird_. I was thinking, after the service, that Jesus might have been a Nephilim, maybe; the son of one of the Archangels, most likely, by the description of his powers, probably Michael or Raphael. The healing of the lepers, that, that sure sounds like Raph. But he wasn’t mine. Kathy, just so you know, I’ve never slept with a human. Since taking this form, I’ve dated a few times, but that’s really a very recent development.”

“Well, that’s your business, and none of mine, Chuck. I don’t care who you were with before me.”

“Right, I’m just explaining. So, first weird thing is that everyone apparently thinks Jesus was my kid. Then, following on that, the second weird thing, and this one really bothered me, this whole thing about Jesus dying for the forgiveness of sins. Yeah, that’s really not a thing.”

“No? So, no one can be forgiven?”

“No! No! Other way around! The only thing you have to do to be forgiven is to express sincere remorse. Look, the only thing that I really have concerns about is whether or not someone tries to hurt others, okay? If you’re just living your life, going along, not hurting anyone, just trying to make it through, you’re good, okay? And say you do hurt someone else. If you’re sorry for your actions, if you try to make things right, or, if that’s not possible, if you try to go forward and make the world a better place, because you learned something and want to do better, that’s really all I need to see. Y’know? I mean, I’m really pretty laid back about the whole sin thing. I mean, sure, there was a time, back when I was still trying to micromanage everyone, where I’d lay into somebody pretty hard about minor stuff, but now? No way.”

“Okay. So, I guess I don’t get why you were so agitated.”

“Well, because, I was thinking, is that what they all really believe about me? That I would put the forgiveness of the sins of all of my creations on the life of one man,  _ any  _ one man, much less one for whose birth I had supposedly personally been responsible as the father? I mean, I know I was a lousy father to my own kids, especially to Mike, Lucy, and Gabe. I manipulated them, I schemed against them for my own entertainment, and, yes, I was particularly nasty to Lucifer - but I didn’t  _ kill  _ any of them! But here’s this whole belief system apparently based on the notion that I not only allowed but wanted, planned, for Jesus to be killed, in order for his death and the forgiveness of his sins to be a symbol of faith, and that if people don’t believe in this whole cockamamie story, they can’t be allowed into Heaven!”

“Oh, I see.” Kathy nodded slowly. “You think that making Jesus a symbol of faith for millions around the world makes you look like a bad father.”

“Well, yes. Wait. No! That’s not it! It’s more that, one, I  _ wasn’t  _ his father, but, two, even if I  _ had been _ Jesus’ father, I wouldn’t have  _ killed  _ him, and, three, his death wasn’t required for  _ anyone’s  _ sins to be forgiven, not even his own. But those three basic “facts” are the main tenets of a global belief system, and it’s just absurd!”

***

Since Gabe had taken Sam to lie down, Hannah was looking after Shann when Castiel (with Lucifer), Balthazar, and Dean arrived, coming up the long way from the garage.

“Castiel, Gabe asked me to ask you if you’d mind running Shann here home now. He’s been here almost 36 hours, and he’s been working very hard with minimal breaks, and we didn’t want him driving until we knew the state of the roads with the bleed-through situation.” Hannah smiled at all three of the new arrivals as she said it.

Castiel nodded. “I can do that. I’ll run him home in his car, and fly back; then he’ll have the car for the morning, and we’ll know that the roads between here and his apartment are safe.”

“I’ll let him know. He’s been very focused, hasn’t come up for air in a while.” Hannah slipped off toward the library, as Cas and Dean set their bags down. 

“Well, Cassie, I am going to go to my room to read for a bit, unless you have additional need of me?” Balthazar inquired.

Castiel smiled. “No, Balthazar, thank you for your assistance today on the road, but I wish you would go get some rest now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Balthazar nodded, and headed toward his room.

“I’ll haul the bags down to our room, Cas. Meet me there, when you get back?”

“All right, Dean.” Castiel smiled.

Dean hefted his duffel bag and his case in one hand, and Cas’ bag in the other, and went off down the hall.

Shann came out of the library, blinking rapidly. He rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. “Ugh, I think I’ve been doing a bit too much reading today. Hey, Cas. Thanks for running me home.”

“Not a problem, Shann. Shall we?” Cas gestured toward the iron steps leading up to the door, and followed Shann up and out to Shann’s car. “Do you want me to drive, or ride shotgun? Doesn’t matter any to me, I can see and correct for the bleed-through spots either way.”

“I’ll drive. I need to do something a little more active than research, even if just for a few minutes.” Shann grinned. He unlocked the car doors, and slid in behind the wheel, as Cas got into the passenger seat.

Shann started the car and backed out of the parking space. He rolled down his window for some air, and put the car into gear. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as they drove out of the parking lot.

“So, Castiel, I’ve basically been driving Gabe and Hannah nuts today asking them questions about the subject of my current project. Do you mind if I ask you, and through you, would Lucifer mind being asked, some questions, too?”

“Well, I don’t mind, and…” Cas paused, listening, “Lucifer says he doesn’t mind either. What’s the project about?”

“It’s a text I’m translating. It’s in modern Spanish, but the phrasing is very formal, so as I translate it, I’ve been trying to keep the same formality. It’s about an ancient being, called Malachai, The Monster, Destroyer of Worlds. Does that mean anything to either of you?”

“Not to me,” Cas said. He listened again. “Lucifer says that there was an ancient being living in the depths of Hell, the very bottom of the Pit, when he was first cast down. He thinks its name might have been Malachai, but he isn’t certain - that was a very long time ago.”

“Yeah.” Shann laughed. 

“Lucifer actually has a suggestion for you. Now, you are absolutely free to say ‘no’ - no hard feelings and he says he’ll help you with any questions you want to ask even if you do - but if you wanted, Lucifer would be willing to come into you, letting you be in charge, giving you access to his knowledge. He says he wouldn’t try to take you over, you would remain in the drivers’ seat at all times. And if you want to expel him at any time, he’ll go.”

“Wow. Um. But, I mean, and I hope he doesn’t take this the wrong way, it’s…  _ Lucifer _ . I mean, I’ve heard about what happened when he possessed Sam, and Nick, and, um….”

Cas smiled. “Yeah, I get it. He’s possessed me before, too, and it was no picnic, but in all of those situations, he had the Mark of Darkness and was being corrupted by it. That’s gone, now. He hasn’t gotten out of line once since we started sharing this vessel yesterday. But, again, he’s not offended if you say no, Shann. It’s entirely up to you. And if you want to wait until morning, and ask around, see what Gabe and Sam and the others think, Lucifer says he won’t think any less of you; in fact, he’ll admire you for doing your due diligence.”

“What about you, Cas? Are you all right with sharing a vessel with him? Isn’t it… I dunno, crowded in there?”

“You’d think, but remember, the human whose body this was originally, Jimmy Novak, he’s been dead and gone a very long time. This body was essentially reconditioned for me specifically by God when I got promoted to Seraph, right after Sam retook control of his body from Lucifer and jumped into the Cage. So, it’s a very strong vessel, and it’s just the two of us in here. If Lucifer were to go into you, it’d be only the two of you in your body.”

“How do I know if my body is strong enough to handle it? Sam was telling me that he had to drink gallons of demon blood, and so did Nick, in order to contain Lucifer.”

“Fair point.” Cas smiled. “I’m not saying you should, or shouldn’t, do this. For what it’s worth, I think Lucifer really does just want to help. But it’s entirely up to you, Shann. Maybe you should sleep on it. And, here we are. This is your building, right?”

Shann looked up, and nodded. “Yes, it is. I’ll think about it. Nothing personal, Lucifer, I just have some concerns.”

Cas laughed. “He says he’d think less of you if you didn’t. No worries. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night.” 

Cas slipped out of the passenger side of the car, and closed the door. He watched Shann drive off towards the underground garage, and then vanished, materializing back in the Bunker's hallway, just outside the room he shared with Dean. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kathy does kind of have a point, there. If you really look at what Christianity says about how Jesus died, it does make God look like a bad father. Ironic, since we know that God was a bad father to the angels.... But Chuck's point is that he wasn't a father at all to Jesus, didn't kill him, wouldn't have put that kind of strain on anyone much less his own son, and for a story with those base inaccuracies to have become a global belief system is wholly awful. (It's probably 'holy awful', too, but I really tried not to go there, sorry!) ;)
> 
> Shann's right - he really did luck into the best job in the whole world - free food, as much OT as he wants/can handle, interesting work, considerate boss and co-workers who actually care about his health and welfare.... But can he trust Lucifer? Hmm. We'll have to see what the others think of that proposition.... ;)
> 
> No art, sorry. Scanner's still on the fritz - new PC and hard to find printer drivers for an old Kodak "all-in-one" printer/scanner/copier, and yeah, I can't scan anything. Grr. The pic in the last chapter was already up on my Pinterest board, or I wouldn't have been able to include it. I have a pic of Chuck drawn that I wanted to include here, so if I can get the scanner working, perhaps I will edit this chapter to add it in, or maybe the next chapter will have more Chuck and Kathy. ;)
> 
> Please comment!! I really appreciate hearing from you guys!! ;D


	174. So, You Know That Whole Space-Time Continuum Thingy? Yeah, About That...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann cleans his apartment. Cas and Dean chat. Jody and Claire realize the clocks are stuck, and call Dean.

Shann put a load of laundry in his washer; one thing he loved about this apartment was having his own washer and dryer. He didn’t have to go to a laundromat, or even down a hall - he could just toss in a load whenever he was going to be around to move it over to the dryer when it finished. It was just after 6:00 pm, and he realized he was starving - it had been a long time since lunch.

So, he pulled out his cell phone, and called the local Chinese restaurant that delivered, which happened to be owned by one of his best friends. “Hey, Wang Feng, it’s Shann, how’s it going?... Yeah? Congrats, man. That’s excellent. Tell her I said hello.” Shann grinned at the news that his friend had popped the question. 

“Yeah. I know, right? It’s been a while. We should get together and do something. Next weekend?... Yeah, unless I have to work, but it should be all right, I just worked both days this weekend, and my boss is pretty easy going…. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll take my usual, and can I also get an additional small pork fried rice, and two extra egg rolls? Yeah….” 

Shann looked in his refrigerator. “Oh, and hey, let me get two two-liter bottles of diet Coke, okay?... Yeah. Put it on the card, man…. 

“Well, stick a thirty-percent tip on there. Yeah, I said thirty; call it an engagement present.” Shann grinned. 

“Yeah. Okay. Give your mom my love, man. Talk to you.” Shann ended the call.

Feeling unable to settle after sitting for so long at work, Shann puttered around, cleaning his already pristine kitchen. When the delivery guy rang the bell, he let him in the building, and opened his apartment door. He signed the charge slip, and took the bags, thanked the guy, and closed the door behind him. He set the bags down on the counter next to the stove, and went for a large plate and a fork. He opened container after container, and scraped food out onto the plate, then closed up the leftovers and put them in the refrigerator, and took his plate and fork into the living room, along with one of the two-liter bottles of soda.

He turned on the television and clicked through channels, trying to find something to watch while he ate. He still felt unsettled, and a little...twitchy. But he supposed he’d been sitting really still for hours upon hours, researching, so his inability to sit comfortably now ought not to surprise him. After a while, though, he couldn’t stand to be sitting, so as soon as he finished his plate, he switched off the tv, got up and took the plate and fork into the kitchen, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, and leaned back against the counter for a second. 

Then he heard the washer switch off. He moved the wet laundry over to the dryer, and started a second load in the washer. He went into the bathroom, and scrubbed out the tub. He got out an extra toothbrush and scrubbed the grout between the tile to within an inch of its life. He went over the mirror with window cleaner and a clean rag. He washed down the sink and the fixtures until they gleamed. Then he ended up spending a while rearranging his medicine cabinet.

He heard the washer and dryer still running, so he went into his bedroom and straightened up a bit, dusted the shelves, stripped the bed, put on clean sheets and made up the bed again, then carried the sheets out to the laundry room just as the washer finished. He took the load just finished out and put the sheets in with the rest of his whites, and started the washer a third time. He emptied the dryer, put the clothes from the second washer load in the dryer, and restarted it. Then he started folding.

As he carried the laundry basket into his bedroom to put the folded clothes away, he glanced at the clock. 

_ Wait. That can’t be right.  _

He went out in the kitchen and looked at the clock on the microwave. Then he went out to the living room and looked at the time on the cable box. They all read the same.

_ How is it only 7:15 pm? _

***

Cas knocked once on the bedroom door before walking in. 

“Dude, you live here. You don’t have to knock.” Dean grinned at him.

“Just in case. Just in case,” Cas grinned back. “Didn’t think you’d appreciate giving Lucifer an eyeful. Speaking of which, do you want me to sleep in my old room, just until he’s gone?”

Dean considered. “No. I want you here, where I can keep an eye on you - and him - just in case.”

Castiel paused, listening, and smiled. “He said, ‘Fair; but to be honest, Dean, if I decided to take over, really, what could you do?’ and then he laughed. Just so you know, Dean, he’s made himself a comfortable bed, and he’s gone to sleep, now. It really is okay, my heart.”

Dean relaxed a bit, and smiled, but still managed to look concerned. “I get it, Cas, he’s playing ball, and the Mark is gone, and yeah, I remember how that felt, what a relief it was, for the Mark to be gone, how much more like myself I felt, after. But to be fair, I needed therapy, and I only had the Mark for a few months. I mean, yeah, the therapy’s about more than just that, trying to undo years of damage, sure - but how much more damage has Lucifer had done to him, or done to himself, in the millennia he had the Mark? Not sure there’s a therapist out there that could handle it, though.”

Castiel huffed out a laugh. “You have a couple of very valid points, my heart. He probably should have a therapist, and there probably isn’t one around that could handle the job. 

“By the way, he offered to move into Shann, if Shann wants, letting Shann drive and be in charge, in order to help Shann with his research directly. Shann said he’d have to think about it, which is entirely fair.”

“Yeah? So, he’d go into Shann permanently? Or only temporarily, to help with the current research he’s doing?”

“Unclear. I think that would probably be between the two of them.”

“Right. Oh, were you going to fly up to Sioux Falls tonight to talk to Claire?”

“I was, but it seems like maybe something that could wait until tomorrow. Today’s been a long day.” 

“Okay, although I do still need to call Jody and Donna tonight. Hey, I was thinking, maybe you could fly up and bring Claire back here with you. That way, we could both talk to her. I can’t be in Sioux Falls, but there’s no reason why Claire can’t be in Lebanon. You could at least ask her, hey?”

“That’s a good idea, Dean. I’ll certainly ask Claire if she wants to come back with me.” Cas yawned, widely, stretching.

You ready for bed, there, Angel?”

“Yes. I think it is that time.”

“Yeah, although, looking at the clock, it’s only… 7:15? Wow. Seems a lot later than that.”

***

Jody yawned again. “Why am I so tired? It’s still only 7:15.” 

“It can’t be 7:15, Jodes, it was 7:15 when we started the movie.” Claire yawned as well, then stretched. “It’s gotta be at least 9:30 now.”

“But the clock on the wall and the cable box both say… 7:15.” They looked at each other. 

“Call Dean?” Claire suggested. 

Claire 

Jody nodded, and pulled out her cell phone… just as it began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jody, it’s Dean.”

“Dean? I was just about to call you!”

“Well, me first, ‘kay? I need to warn you, there are, as you know, multiple universes. Apparently, now some of them are bleeding through into ours. There may be multiple bleed-through spots near you, or none, we don’t know, but Cas is going to come up tomorrow and make sure everything there is all right. And, just so you know, he’s, um… temporarily housing Lucifer. But it’s okay, I promise.”

“What? Dean Winchester….”

“Seriously, Jody, it’s okay. Lucifer was corrupted by the Mark of Darkness, also known as the Mark of Cain. It’s gone now, he’s uncorrupted, he’s letting Cas be in charge and use his powers, he’s just trying to help, and sharing a vessel with Cas is, as I said, only temporary.”

“How can you tell?”

“For one, Cas says it’s fine. For another, so does Death.”

“Excuse me?”

“Death. Her name is Billie, she’s nice, you’d like her.”

“Dean!”

“What? She is, and you would! Anyway, she can see them both in Cas’ vessel, and she says it really is Cas in charge, and that Lucifer really is hanging back and behaving.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Really, Jodes, Cas is fine. He’s right here, he says to tell you hello, and he’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“So, now, what did you want to tell me?”

“What time is it there, Dean?”

Dean looked at the clock, then his watch. “That can’t be right. It says it’s 7:15, but it said it was 7:15 a half-hour ago.”

“Exactly. It says it’s 7:15 on the clock, the cable box…”

“My computer, too, Jodes,” Claire put in.

“Claire’s computer, but it’s been stuck on 7:15 for hours. It was 7:15 before we put in the movie we just watched, which was over two hours long.”

“Weird. Okay, well, looks like we’ve got the same thing here. We’ll see what we can figure out.”

“Okay. Call me later, Dean. We’ll see Cas tomorrow.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut-oh. Everyone's still moving, time isn't frozen... or is it? Maybe everyone's just getting an awful lot done in that one minute. ;)
> 
> More art! It's been up on Pinterest for a while - no, my scanner's still not working. :( I'm drawing, I promise!
> 
> Please comment! :D


	175. Monday Morning...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann makes a plan. Dean holds a meeting. Kathy tries to wake Chuck. Donna speaks with her attorney.

Shann had finally gone to sleep after folding the third load of laundry and putting it away. Although the clocks still said it was only 7:15 pm, he estimated it was probably closer to 2:00 am when he had fallen into bed, still feeling unsettled, but utterly exhausted.

When he awoke, he glanced at the clock out of habit, and relaxed when he saw that it read 7:15. 

_Forty-five minutes until I have to be to work. Plenty of time._

Then he remembered. 

_I have no idea what time it really is._

He panicked.

He grabbed his cell phone - 7:15 pm, Sunday evening.

He went out to the living room and looked at the cable box - 7:15 pm.

He opened his laptop - 7:15 pm, Sunday evening.

He looked at the clock on his stove - 7:15.

He looked at the clock on the microwave - 7:15.

He looked at the clock on the wall in the living room - 7:15.

_Even if the power somehow shorted out every other clock and made them all stop at 7:15 - which probably wouldn’t even happen with the computer and cell phone clocks - the battery-operated clock on the wall would still be moving. Shit._

He went back to his bedroom and looked out the window, which had an eastern exposure. Still dark out. It was mid-November; what time should the sun rise? He went back out and opened the web browser on his laptop. He ran a search on “November 15 sunrise time in Lebanon, KS” - 7:20 am. So, if it was really 7:15 am, the sun would be up in five minutes. 

_Unless time has really stopped, and it doesn’t come up at all._

He shook his head. He was not going there. Not yet, at least. 

_Okay, it’s Monday, right? Gotta get to work. Whatever time it is. Take a shower, get dressed, get my shit together, and go. And maybe someone there will have an answer for...whatever this is._

He felt better for having a plan. He headed to the bathroom to get started on it.

***

“So, do we have an answer for...whatever this is?” Dean asked the group assembled in the War Room (Castiel, Gabriel, Sam, Balthazar, Hannah, and Alicia; apparently Billie and Violet had left for a while for locations as yet unknown). He sighed as they all shook their heads in the negative.

“Gabe?”

“I got nothing, Dean-o.”

“Cas? Lucifer? Any ideas?”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dean. Neither of us has any idea of what’s causing this.”

“Okay, do we even know what _this_ is, exactly? Has time actually stopped? Or just the clocks?” Dean asked. “I mean, if _time_ had stopped, wouldn’t we be, I dunno, frozen? But we’re all still moving. I spoke with Jody last night, their clocks had stopped at 7:15, but she and Claire had watched a movie that they started after 7:15. Would they have been able to watch the movie, take a phone call, talk to me, if time had actually stopped?”

Gabriel and Castiel looked at each other, and shrugged.

“Dean, you’re asking good questions, but we just don’t have any answers,” Cas told him. “We don’t know who or what is causing this, we don’t know how to fix it, and we’re not even sure what, exactly, it is that we might be dealing with, here.”

“Well, I just checked, and it’s still dark out. Sunrise should have been at 7:20 this morning - I checked - and it seems later than that to me, now. I went to sleep fairly early last night, before the clocks stopped, and I feel well-rested, like I got at least eight or nine hours. And now I’ve been up long enough to take a shower, get dressed, make coffee, figure out there was something off about the clocks, wake Gabriel up and get him to take it seriously,” Sam grinned at Gabe briefly, before continuing, “and to go around and get everyone together for this meeting, which - I was counting, and I may be a little off, but not by too much - has now gone for about forty-five minutes - so probably almost three hours, at least, that I’ve been awake. If I woke at my normal time of 5:00 am, that would make it close to 8:00 am, now. So, the sun should be up - but it’s not.”

“Okay, so, is the Earth not revolving, then?” Dean threw up his hands in frustration, as the angels just shrugged yet again. “Well, could one of you maybe go _check?_ You _can_ still fly, right?”

Gabriel snorted out a strangled-sounding laugh, and vanished. Castiel blushed, and stared at the floor studiously.

“I’m gonna call and check on Shann, he’s usually here by now - assuming my calculations are correct and it really is about 8:00.” Sam pulled out his cell phone and walked from the War Room into the kitchen.

***

“Chuck?” Kathy shook his shoulder lightly, but with some urgency. “Chuck, please, wake up.”

Chuck opened one eye part way, glanced around, then groused. “Too early. Still dark out.” He closed the eye again.

“Yes, that’s the problem! It should be full daylight by now. Look, I have to go to work, but I thought you should be aware that something weird is going on. The clocks all stopped at 6:15 last night. Okay, I gotta go. Bye.”

Kathy darted out the door, closing it behind her.

Kathy 

Chuck lay still for another moment, then peered out through barely open eyes. “Is there coffee? Kath? Did you really leave?” 

Chuck rubbed his eyes, sat up slowly, and scratched his leg idly for a moment. Then he got up and went into the bathroom.

***

“Yes, ma’am. Yes, we’re aware. Mmhmm, yes, ma’am, it appears so, all the clocks, yep. Well, as far as I know, ma’am, it’s all anyone’s been talking about this morning, so far everyone I’ve talked to says their clock stopped at 7:15 last night. So, it’s not just you…. No, we’re not aware of any power outages, and actually even clocks with batteries stopped, so that’s not it, ma’am…. Yes, ma’am…. No, ma’am…. Of course, ma’am…. Okay, thank you, ma’am.” Donna hung up the phone, sighed, and rubbed her eyes.

“I swear, Billy, one more of these calls to tell me that all the clocks have stopped, I’m gonna bite my own hand off.”

“Okay, Sheriff, let’s have you maybe not be on the phones, hmm? How about a donut?” Billy guided Donna over to the break area, where there were three boxes of donuts of all varieties sitting out.

“I don’t need the calories. I’ll just have some coffee.”

“Sheriff, c’mon, a little sugar’ll pick you right up, and then maybe you can handle taking some more calls, okay?”

“Okay.” Donna nodded and picked up a powdered sugar donut.

“There you go. I’ll take the calls for a while, Sheriff, you just relax for a bit.” Billy wandered off.

“Sheriff?” A different deputy put their hand over their phone and called over. 

“Yah?”

“Your attorney’s on the phone. Line three.”

“Line three…. Got it.” Donna picked up line three. “Sheriff Hanscum.”

“Donna, the judge decided to hold a hearing. This Friday at 10:00. You don’t have to be there unless you want to be, I can go and let you know what happens, but I thought you’d want to know, at least.”

“Oh, I want to be there. I haven’t told you, yet, but Doug called me last night. He accused me of doing something untoward to have his attorney arrested.” Donna grinned as her attorney burst into laughter at the other end of the line.

“Did he actually say ‘untoward’?” 

“No, no. He did call me a bitch, though.”

The lawyer stopped laughing. “What did he say, exactly?”

“Oh, well, he said, ‘Donna, you bitch! You can’t have my attorney arrested!’ Then I said, ‘Doug, I did not have your attorney arrested. But y’know, if your attorney got arrested for some reason, you might want to consider hiring a different one. It’s generally frowned upon.’ Then he said, ‘I know you did this! You paid someone off!’ Then I said, ‘No, I didn’t, Doug. I had nothing to do with your attorney’s arrest. Don’t call here again, Doug,’ and I ended the call.”

“Not even a hello, just straight to ‘Donna, you bitch’, eh? Well, I think we’ll see how Sheriff Kontos likes restraining orders.” 

“Oh, you don’t really think a judge would enter a restraining order against a sheriff, do ya?”

“Depends on the judge. If he’s going to go off the deep end enough to call you and accuse you like that, I’d feel better knowing an order’s in place. If you have to call a deputy, I don’t want them to hesitate just because Doug’s a sheriff in another county and they know him, y’know? If he shows up and makes a scene, I want him in jail, Donna. I want you protected.”

“Oh, well, I suppose.” Donna dithered a little. She knew the attorney had a point. But it was Doug, and while he’d always been supercilious and a little mean, verbally, Donna didn’t think he’d ever hurt her.

_Would he?_

“Donna, better to get the order and have it in place, and have your deputies aware that there’s a potential problem, and have it be just that - only a potential problem and not a real one - than to not get it, have your deputies hesitate, and you get hurt. Better safe than sorry, even if you never need it.”

“Oh, well, yah, you’re right. Okay.”

“Okay, I’ll put the paperwork in this morning. I have to go over to the courthouse for something else anyway, I’ll be right by the Clerk’s office anyway.”

“Okay. Talk to you later, then.”

“Bye.” The lawyer hung up. 

Donna cradled the phone receiver and stared blankly into space for a moment, thinking. Then she went to her office, got on the computer, and opened her email, to write an email to everyone in the department.

A restraining order wouldn’t do anything to make the deputies less hesitant unless they knew it existed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shann needs to start going to bed earlier...although, to be fair, no matter what time he went to bed on Sunday night, it was only 7:15! ;)  
> Dean is asking good questions - particularly that last one! ;D  
> Chuck's not getting why the clocks stopping is a bad thing, yet. Poor guy just woke up, and Kathy's springing potentially world-ending problems on him without even making him a cup of coffee! Tsk! ;) By the way, when Kathy says their clocks stopped at 6:15, she's not wrong, and that's not a typo - they're on Mountain time, while the Bunker, Sioux Falls, and Donna's office are all on Central time. ;)  
> A word about restraining orders - in general, they do very little to actually protect anyone, and sometimes getting one is too risky, as it can piss off someone who's already likely to be aggressive/violent. But in a situation like Donna's, where two counties' sheriffs are the parties to a divorce and a court battle, having the order in place, and having Donna's deputies aware that it is, should mean that the deputies understand what's at stake and where their priorities should lie.
> 
> More art! 
> 
> This chapter puts us at 175 chapters, and should put the word count up over 300,000! Still going! This story is the Energizer Bunny of fanfic! lol Thank you all for hanging in there with me and continuing to read and comment! Love you!
> 
> Please comment!! ;D


	176. More of Monday Morning...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck chats with Amara. Billie and Violet chat with Rowena. Sam makes an appointment with Mia, and chats with Gabe.

Chuck peered into the mirror above the bathroom sink, and blinked a few times at his reflection. 

_ It’s too early to be awake. What time is it, anyway? _

He stuck his head out the door to peer at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

_ It’s only 6:15? Why did Kathy leave so early and in such a rush? She doesn’t have to be at work until 8:00. _

He splashed some water on his face, and decided coffee was by far the better part of valor. He puttered out to the kitchen and got the coffeemaker ready. He switched it on and pulled a mug out of the cabinet to wait. He yawned.

Just then, his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, brother.”

“Amara. How are you?”

“What did you do?”

“What did I do about what?” Chuck yawned again.

“Chuck. Why are all the clocks frozen as of 6:15 last evening?”

“All the… Wait. All of them? All clocks? Everywhere?” Chuck’s voice squeaked just a little at the end.

“So, I take it this wasn’t you, then?”

“I had nothing to do with stopping clocks anywhere! I only just woke up a few minutes ago. I take it that since you’re asking me, you don’t know anything, either?”

“I do not.” Amara paused, thinking. “Do you think it could be…?”

“No. No, nuh uh, no. Not after all this time.”

“But he is the God of Chaos,” Amara reminded him.

“Or was, back  _ then _ . He hasn’t been worshipped in a long time, gods that fall out of favor with their followers lose their powers over time.”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s different. You never had worshipers. You never depended upon them for your powers.”

“Neither did he, originally.”

“There have been other indications that...that he’s still around. Sam and Dean had a case involving an object created by his followers, once, invoking his power and his name.”

“So, it could be him, then.”

Chuck had to admit it was possible. “I suppose it technically could be, yeah.”

“We should look for him.”

“Together?”

“Yes. If we’re together, he can’t get the drop on either of us, and our powers will overmatch him. If we go separately, when we’re uncertain of how much strength he has, it could end badly.”

“When?”

“Given the general sense of panic here at the resort just because the clocks have stopped - even though nothing else seems to have stopped with them - I’d say the sooner, the better.”

“Let me get some coffee in me, at least,” Chuck groused.

“Get a shower, get dressed, get some breakfast, then meet me at the resort. I’ll be in the spa, but I’ll tell the desk they can interrupt me for my brother.”

Amara ended the call.

Chuck poured himself a mug of coffee, and scribbled a note for Kathy in case she got back before he did. Then he took himself off to the bathroom to start getting ready.

***

Billie caught Rowena’s elbow as she passed in the hall, and dragged her into the antechamber where Billie and Violet had been hiding, waiting.

“Shhh, Red, it’s just me...and Violet, who you’ve met previously. It’s all right,” Billie whispered when Rowena started to struggle a bit.

“Och, Billie! I’ve been sae worrit! Why did you leave me to fend fer meself for so long, with Malachai standing literally over my shoulder?”

“Ro, I was just here yesterday.” Billie looked surprised, and Rowena realized she was telling the truth.

“Time isn’t running right, Billie. Aye, Hell is normally faster than Earth, but for a while it was slower - when Violet was here, for example - aye, Violet? - but now it’s running much  _ faster  _ than Hell normally does. If you were here yesterday, in Earth time, let’s see… one month in Earth time is  _ normally  _ ten years, Hell time…”

“Ro, excuse me, I’m not trying to be cute, but we don’t have time for the calculations, all right? We’ll take it as read that time isn’t running correctly down here - it’s not running correctly on Earth, either. All the clocks stopped last evening.  _ All  _ the clocks.”

“All of them?  _ Everywhere _ ?” Rowena looked suddenly less afraid than interested, as if the challenge of an intellectual puzzle had lifted her out of her fright.

Rowena 

“Yes. Even the battery-operated ones,” Violet put in.

Billie nodded.

“Did anyone think to check the Atomic Clock, in Colorado?” Rowena asked.

Billie looked nonplussed. “I don’t know. I doubt it; we’ve been more focused on trying to figure out what it is we’re dealing with, and who or what caused it.”

“Well, dearie, I don’t know who did cause it, but I know who didn’t. Unless Malachai is able to split himself off - and I’m not denying he might have the power to do it - he’s been stuck like glue to my side, right up until I said I needed to get some exercise and went for a walk just now, right before you waylaid me in the hallway. So, I tend to doubt this is his doing. And it’s certainly not mine!”

Billie nodded. “All right. Well, if you hear anything, Red, can you try to let us know? I mean, be safe about it, but, you know, if you can sneak away for a minute, could you, I don’t know, send a demon?”

“If I can’t sneak away tae contact you, darlin’, I couldn’t possibly be explainin’ tae a demon what message tae give ye, now could I?” Rowena gave Billie a knowing smile. “All right, I have tae be gettin’ back, or he’ll realize I’m up tae somethin’.” Rowena darted back out into the hallway.

“She’s really scared.” Billie said, more to herself than to Violet.

“How can you tell?” Violet asked.

“Her accent. It gets thicker, or broader - more Scots - when she’s afraid. She was speaking pretty broadly, there,” Billie explained. 

“Okay, let’s check the Atomic Clock - actually go to Colorado, rather than looking at it online - and then we can head back to the Bunker and see if they’ve figured anything out yet.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you want me to come with you, or should I just head back to Dean right away?”

Billie considered. “No, you come with me. I might need you.”

Violet nodded, and they both vanished.

***

“Hey, this is Sam Winchester. My brother, Dean, is one of Mia’s patients, and…. Oh, no, no! I’m not calling  _ about _ Dean, I’m just saying, Mia will know who I am. She’s met me before, but she might not remember me - but she’ll know Dean, that’s my point. At any rate, I’d like to make an appointment with Mia for myself.... Well, after her sessions with Dean, I’m pretty sure she probably knows why, but if she has questions, she can give me a call…. Well, how long is standard?... Well, why don’t we say an hour, and if it needs adjusting, Mia and I can discuss it at the first session?... Well, how does Thursday afternoon look for Mia? I’m available…. Great. No, really, that’s great, 2:00 on Thursday afternoon, then…. Yep, okay, thanks.” Sam ended the call.

“I’m proud of you, Samshine.” Gabe smiled softly.

“Didn’t hear you come in.”

“I just got back. Hey, probably not the first session, but if you ever want me to come along with you, even if I’m just there as silent support, I’m down for it. And if not, that’s fine, too. Whatever you need, love.”

Sam let out a long slow breath. “Thanks. I really appreciate it, that you don’t act like asking for help is a weakness.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. Big time. He would not approve. Dean and I both in therapy? No. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Then don’t. John’s gone, Sam. You and Dean are doing well, you’re both remarkably well-adjusted, actually, for the lives you’ve both led. You’re both happy, you’re both in healthy relationships, and considering what you’ve both seen and been through, it’s not at all surprising that you’d have a few neuroses and issues popping up from time to time that you’d need help with. I’m proud of you, I really am. I always will be.” Gabe opened his arms, and Sam stepped into them. Sam rested his chin on the top of Gabe’s head, and breathed in the scent of his shampoo. 

“How is it that your less-than-one-dollar-per-bottle shampoo smells so much better than mine?” Sam laughed.

“Maybe it’s not the shampoo, Samalicious. Maybe that’s just 100% archangel.” Gabe grinned.

“Dork.”

“And proud of it, baby!” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck finally clues in as to why clocks stopping might be important.... ;) Who's the God of Chaos they're referencing, y'think? From the conversation about the case Sam and Dean had about an object, it's not Malachai... Hmmm.  
> Rowena's accent is broadening a bit, there; good observation by Billie. So, if the Atomic Clock has stopped, has time really stopped, then, even if everyone is still moving forward and not frozen in it? ;)  
> Proud of Sam for taking the first step, finally! And good for Gabe being supportive! :D
> 
> More art! Scanner's still not working, so I took a pic of the drawing with my cell phone. *rolls eyes* Hey, whatever works, right? ;)
> 
> Please comment!!


	177. Better Safe Than Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck makes a long-distance call. Billie stops off at NIST for a chat about the atomic clock.

Just as he was about to leave the cabin for Reno, Chuck had a sudden thought. He leaned back against the arm of the couch, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed an international number. It took a moment to connect and ring, and then the call was answered.

“Light? This had better be important. I was sleeping.”

“Hey, Cuz. Look, I’m sorry I woke you, okay? But I gotta ask... um, did you stop the clocks?”

“Did I… what? No. You’re actually calling me just to insult me like this? After all this time?”

“Better a call than Amara and I showing up in person to smite you, Tia.”

“Look, Light. Don’t start with me. I may not be as strong as I once was, but I can still do some damage.”

“Yes, hence the call, Tia. No reason to go all the way to Baghdad, when a simple phone call can clear things up, that’s all I’m saying.”

“So.  _ All  _ the clocks?”

“Seems so. In this part of the world, US Mountain Time, they stopped at 6:15 pm yesterday.”

“Ah. My clock does, indeed, read 3:15 am. What time do you estimate it is now, where you are?”

“Roughly, 8:00 Monday morning.”

“So, it’s roughly 5:00 Monday afternoon here, and I should be getting up from my nap now, anyway. I suppose I should actually thank you for the call; I need to be getting ready.” 

“Um, yeah, you really should be thanking me, because Amara was ready _to just make the trip_.”

“Perhaps  _ you  _ should be wondering why Darkness was so ready to do that, Light.”

“What are you saying, Tia?”

“Not like Darkness has ever been exactly happy with you, Light.”

“Well, no, she got out, and she was understandably upset, but… we reconciled.”

“Mmhmm. Just that easy? Doesn’t sound like the Darkness I know. _That_ girl practically _invented_ holding a grudge. Look, Light, I don’t want to get between the two of you, but _I_ didn’t stop the clocks. If Darkness suggested that I _did_ , either she’s grudging against _me_ \- and why she’d bother, I don’t know - or she’s trying to mislead  _ you _ . Think about it, yes?”

“Um, yeah, okay, Tia, thanks, I’ll, um, consider it…. 

“So, how’s Marduk?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Still likes to brag about how he ‘destroys’ me, but between you and me, he’s not  _ that  _ big. He should probably be home soon, if it’s really that late, but if all the clocks have really stopped, I don’t suppose I can expect him to be home on time, even if it _ is _ our anniversary.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t a little salty, Tiamat,” Chuck said, fondly.

“Heh. You haven’t spoken with Namma lately, have you?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but Pappy’s been active. Just wondered if Namma was awake, too.”

“Huh. No, I didn’t know Pappy was up.”

“Oh, crap, I can hear Marduk coming up the stairs, and I’m not ready to go out. Look, Light, it was good to talk with you, don’t go millennia without calling again, okay? But I gotta go. Bye.” Chuck heard the click indicating the call had been ended.

_ Hmm. Misdirection from Amara. There’s a surprise. Hmm, I wonder if she knows that Pappy’s awake. _

Chuck crumpled the note he’d written for Kathy and put it in the trash, then settled down on the couch to watch television. He wouldn’t be going to Reno today.

Chuck 

***

Billie materialized in the office of the director of the National Institute of Science and Technology’s Time and Frequency Division, startling the director into spilling his coffee as he jumped up from the chair behind his desk. 

“My apologies,” Billie said, dryly. “Was it the scythe, or the sudden appearance? It was the scythe, wasn’t it?”

“I’m d-d-dying?” the director sputtered.

“Oh, no. I mean, I  _ am _ Death, but no, I’m not here for you. I just need some information. I assume you’re aware of the problem with the clocks?” Billie schooled her face into an expression of cool professionalism, but it was hard; she was laughing internally. 

“Um, y-y-yes, I-I’m aware, we were briefed this morning, and then I had to call the Secretary and brief him, so he could brief the President.”

“Well, I just was wondering, it appears that all clocks - computers’ clocks, cell phone clocks, even wall clocks with batteries - have stopped; but has the atomic clock, itself, stopped? How does that work, exactly?” 

“Um, well… Do you know how regular clocks work? How much background should I give you? I don’t want to insult you, but I want to make sure you understand what I tell you.”

“Good point. Assume I know _nothing_.” Billie smiled sweetly.

The director swallowed hard, but gamely continued on. “Well, there are three basic types of clocks, historically. Pendulum clocks, digital clocks, and atomic clocks. Each kind uses the frequency of some type of oscillation or resonation to measure time. So, for example, in a pendulum clock, there’s a pendulum that swings back and forth, usually at a frequency of one swing per second; those swings are called resonations. The gears of the clock move with the resonations, and measure the time accordingly. A digital clock uses the oscillations in the power line, or the oscillations of a quartz crystal in the clock, and the accuracy of the clock is determined by how accurate the resonator is at oscillating at a specific frequency on a consistent basis.”

“Okay, I follow you so far,” Billie nodded.

“G-g-good. So, with an atomic clock, what’s different is that it uses the resonance frequencies of atoms, and it’s regulated by the frequency of the microwave electromagnetic radiation emitted or absorbed by the energy change of an atom. Atoms resonate at extremely consistent frequencies - any atom of cesium will resonate at exactly the same frequency as any other atom of cesium. Cesium-133 oscillates at 9,192,631,770 cycles per second, and because that’s known, measurable, and never changes, the atomic clock is extremely precise.”

“All right. So, if I’m getting this right, for the atomic clock to stop, either the atom of cesium has to stop resonating, or the instrument used to measure the resonation would have to fail - would that be correct to say?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And has either of those things occurred? Say, at 6:15 pm yesterday?” Billie tilted her head slightly as she looked at the director.

“Um, actually… yes. We think it’s the latter - we don’t think cesium suddenly stopped resonating, especially since everything _else_ is still moving. I mean, time is clearly continuing _on_ \- it’s just that we’re suddenly unable to _measure_ it. Accurately, or… _at all_ , really.” The director slumped back down into his chair, closed his eyes, and scrubbed his hands through his hair.

Billie nodded slowly, and let out a deep breath. “Thank you, sir. You’ve confirmed a theory for me, and I appreciate it. I’d appreciate even more if you didn’t tell anyone I was here.” Billie snapped her fingers and a clean white button-down shirt appeared in her hand. She handed it to the director. “So you don’t have to explain away the coffee stain.” She smiled gently. 

“Um, thanks. Um… can I ask…?”

“Probably better that you don’t know.” Billie looked at Violet; Billie could see her, though she hadn’t materialized. Violet nodded. “I can tell you this. You’re not _scheduled_ for this year, at least. But you know, we should all live life like it could end tomorrow, because there’s always that chance. You step out the door and a bus jumps the curb, and... _wham!_ Now, I’m not saying that’s what _will_ happen... just saying, it _could_. You know?” Billie smiled again as the director nervously nodded, and then she vanished, and she and Violet returned to the Bunker, as planned.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, Chuck got some clues out of that phone call, I think. Did you? ;)
> 
> Billie kinda terrorized the director a bit, there. Hope he's got a strong heart. She did say he wasn't scheduled to go this year.... ;)
> 
> More art! I decided not to go back and edit art in, I just put the pic of Chuck in this chapter, instead. Scanner's still not working, but using the cell is okay for the time being. ;)
> 
> Please, please comment! Especially if you haven't for a while! Let's hear from you! :D


	178. Dean's Monday Journal and Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes care of his therapeutic writing for the day.

After Gabriel confirmed that, yes, the Earth was still turning, and Billie returned and confirmed that it appeared that time was still moving forward, it was simply a failure of the devices used to measure time, not time itself, as confirmed by NIST, Dean had made up a lunch buffet, consisting of a platter of sandwiches and a toureen of soup, along with some cut-up vegetables, summer sausage, and cheese on a tray. He let everyone serve themselves, and took his own plate to his room, to write in his journal.

He felt vaguely guilty, like he should be doing something about the clocks failing, but damned if he knew what. 

_How am I supposed to fix all the clocks? We don’t even know why they stopped._

So, he knew the feeling was irrational - but he felt it, all the same.

Once in his room, he set down his plate, pulled out his chair, and seated himself at his desk. Then he got out his notebook and pen, uncapped the pen, and turned to a blank page. No longer intimidated, and feeling more comfortable with writing after a few weeks of doing it, he started right in.

***

**_Monday afternoon_ **

_I wrote my last journal entry and letter to myself in the car on the way back to the Bunker from Donna’s cabin yesterday afternoon, so, I apologize again for the messy handwriting - hopefully it’s legible enough._

_We got back around 6 pm, and Sam wasn’t feeling well. Gabe was taking care of him, and had asked Hannah to ask Cas if he’d run Shann home, watching out for bleed-through spots on the way. Poor Shann had been here, working nearly straight through, I guess, since early Saturday morning, when he was supposed to have the whole weekend off. So, Cas agreed to go with him (in Shann’s car, so Shann could drive himself back to work today, and then Cas could just fly back from Shann’s apartment building), and they took off right away._

_I went and started a load of laundry, then went to our room to put stuff away. I didn’t think, I just closed the door. So, when Cas got back, he knocked. I’ve told him before he doesn’t need to knock, and I said it again. He reminded me that he’s carrying Lucifer, and figured I wouldn’t want him to just walk in “and give Lucifer an eyeful” if he didn’t knock. He asked if I wanted him to go back to his old room, which we’ve been using for storage since he moved in with me, because of Lucifer. I thought about it, but decided no, I’d rather have Cas - and Lucifer - with me, where I can keep an eye on them, both. Cas and Lucifer both found that vaguely amusing - what could I really do if Lucifer decided to take over? - but I think Cas appreciated that I’d try. Hey, if nothing else, I could ask Gabe for assistance. Lucifer then went to sleep, so it was just me and Cas._

_Cas said Lucifer offered to move into Shann, purely to help with the research Shann’s currently working on, and then whether or not Lucifer would stay there once the research was done would be up to the two of them. Apparently, Shann’s considering it, but isn’t quite sure he wants to risk it. Cas says Lucifer’s unoffended, completely understands, respects Shann for wanting to ask others what they think, called it “doing his due diligence.” He’s not trying to persuade or manipulate or trick Shann into being his vessel, and Cas says it seems to him like it’s a genuine offer, especially since Lucifer said he’d still help with the research even if Shann said no. He just thought it would be easier to help if they were able to talk directly, instead of through Cas. If true, that’s probably the nicest thing I’ve ever heard of Lucifer doing._

_Both Cas and I were getting tired - Cas actually yawned - but the clock said it was only 7:15, and it wasn’t like we’d had a particularly active day. It was a little stressful dealing with multiple universe bleed-through and driving back from Minnesota, but it wasn’t like some days we’ve had, where we took out a whole nest of vamps then had to drive 18 hours home. Based on our “usual definition” of stressful, it was an easy day - so I couldn’t figure out why I felt so exhausted._

_I needed to call Jody and Donna to warn them about the potential for losing people through bleed-through spots, so I called Jody. Turned out she was just about to call me when her phone rang. I told her about the multiple universe situation, and said Cas would come up there to fix any bleed-through spots he could find. Then she told me that it appears that the clocks have stopped - all of them - as of 7:15 pm. The reason we were so tired when it was “only 7:15” is that it was not, in fact, 7:15. It was some time well after 9:30 (we know that because Claire and Jody had been watching a movie that runs longer than 2 hours, and when they had started it, the clock already said 7:15), and we just hadn’t noticed that the clock wasn’t actually moving._

_Figuring there was nothing we could really do about it right then, we went to bed. Sam got everyone up and moving this morning with a call for a meeting about it. I asked Gabriel to check to see if the Earth was still rotating - I was a bit snarky about it, to be honest: “You can still fly, right?” and he took off to do so. Billie apparently went to Colorado to check with the guy who runs the atomic clock project for the government; he confirmed that even the atomic clock isn’t working properly, but yes, time continues to move forward; he said the cesium atoms they use for the clock haven’t stopped resonating - and everything else obviously continues to move, we’re not all frozen in an actual time stoppage - it’s more that the machines that would normally count the resonations have stopped working - in every clock, everywhere, at the same time, so that although time is still moving, we can no longer measure it. Which is weird enough._

_This seems like something that really only a god could do, so I’m personally betting that it’s our not-so-friendly friend, Chuck. I could be wrong. He said, through Cas’ friend, Kathy, that he wants to end the fighting, and this would be an odd way to go about it. But of the other entities we know of with the “juice” to do this kind of thing, I can’t think of one that would have a motive to do it. With Chuck? Well, Sam did shoot him. We know he’s done some spiteful things in the past. Just sayin’, I don’t think we can count him out. Being that it probably IS something only a god could do, there's probably nothing that I can do to fix it; yet I still have this odd sense that I ought to be doing something about it. I have no notion of what that would be, exactly, but... something. I can't save everyone, and I can't fix every problem, and not everything is my responsibility. Rationally, I know that; but I still have this niggling sense of... failure? Impending doom? I'm not even sure how to describe it._

_I just realized that I wrote a letter to Amara, but didn’t write one to Chuck. Seems like an odd omission. I never wrote to Lucifer, Michael, or Metatron, either, and it’s not like they had no impact on my life. I mean, Lucifer probably had more of an impact on Sam, really, but he impacted me, as well; without Luci, we wouldn’t have Jack, after all. It’s not like Alastair, to whom I deliberately chose not to write, because he had such an impact I didn’t want to explore it further. I just didn’t even think of them when I was writing the letters, and now it seems strange to me that they could have slipped my mind. At some point, I guess I should go back and write to them, huh? (Yes/No, Mia?)_

***

_Dear Dean,_

_You’re 23. Sam’s first year at Stanford should be nearly over. You and Dad have been working a bunch of cases in a college town in rural Ohio, and you met a girl. You even think she’s THE girl. You fall hard for Cassie Robinson, and you break about a hundred of Dad’s rules. You sneak out to see her, repeatedly. If Dad heads for the bar in the evening, you head for Cassie’s dorm to pick her up and take her out. It’s not even so much about the sex, though the two of you are doing that, too; you really fall in love with her. And finally, it comes to the point where you can’t stand to tell one more lie, make one more evasion, one more omission - and you tell her the truth about what it is you and Dad do. You’re not roaming the country working construction, you’re hunters of supernatural creatures. She doesn’t believe you. She thinks you’re lying. She thinks you’re trying to break up with her by telling her such a horrible lie that she won’t want you around, and she’s hurt. You’re hurt, too, because she refuses to listen. She’s the first person outside of Dad and Sam and Bobby that you’ve ever tried to talk to about hunting, and she just will not hear it. In her mind, either you’re lying, or you’re insane, and she’s not sure which is worse. She pushes you away, tells you to leave and not come back. You insist that you’ll be back at some point. You’re not sure that you believe it even as you say it._

_You’re 27. You and Sam are on the road, looking for Dad, trying to figure out where he went and what he’s doing, with very few clues, and working cases as you go. You stop for gas and get an odd phone call - from Cassie. You’re not even sure how she’s still able to reach you, but she found your number somehow, and she’s asking for help. Hunter help. She’s back in her hometown in Missouri, living at home and working as a reporter for her town’s only newspaper. People are dying, apparently run off the road, and she thinks her father’s next. She’s right. In the course of solving the case of the haunted “ghost truck,” as you and Sam call it, you and Cassie get back together, and you fall right back under her spell, right back in love with her. But she’s still distrustful, angry that you left even though she told you to go, and even though you make love, she pushes you away again. When you and Sam get back on the road, you tell her you’ll be back for her, but even then, it feels like a lie to you. It is. You never see her again. Even on the few occasions when you and Sam cross the country and end up nearby, you don’t stop, you don’t call. There’s no point. Cassie doesn’t believe in you, and you can’t believe that you’d end up happy with her. You never say it aloud, but you know it in your bones. Love requires trust, and Cassie never trusted you with her heart. And without that, there’s just no point in continuing to try. So, you don’t._

_A couple of weeks prior to Cassie’s call, you meet Layla Rourke at the faith healer’s tent where Sam takes you after you’re electrocuted on a hunt so badly that it does severe damage to your heart. You’re healed, but then you discover that it’s no miracle; it’s a rogue reaper, taking the damage done to the person being “healed” and putting it into a healthy stranger, who then dies instead. You and Sam discover that the reaper is controlled by the faith healer’s wife, and put a stop to it. Layla, who has a rare form of brain cancer, is not healed as a result. But her faith in miracles and in God is unshaken, and you come to admire her attitude toward life. She tells you, “if you're gonna have faith... you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't.” You ask what she’ll do now; she shrugs and says that “God works in mysterious ways…. Goodbye, Dean.” She gets up to leave, and before she opens the door, you tell her, “Well... I'm not much of the praying type... but... I'm gonna pray for you.” She smiles, and says, “Well... there's a miracle, right there.” She then slips out the door. You don’t really have a relationship with Layla, but you know that if she hadn’t been so ill, if you’d met under different circumstances, she is someone that could have been special to you. You never see her again, but you are reminded of her often. And when you’re having a bad day, and someone, even Castiel, starts to tell you that “God works…” - you cut them off. “If you say ‘in mysterious ways’ I swear I will end you.” And that’s born out of your frustration that you couldn’t save Layla. You have a problem with the concept that you can’t save everyone, Dean. No one can._

_Although Cassie and Layla are not the only women you’ll ever love, they set the bar - and they set it fairly high. They are the women by whom you measure all others. Not Mary, your mother, who you lost too early in your life to really remember properly. Not Robin or Amanda, the two girls who you briefly dated in high school who meant something to you. No. Neither of them meant as much to you as Cassie and Layla. Cassie was the first woman you had something with on a long-term basis, the first woman to whom you really lost your heart, the first woman for whom you felt it was worth breaking Dad’s rules. Layla wasn’t in your life long-term, but her innate sweetness, light, and faith, so clear and so deep, struck you so deeply that she stayed with you in your active memory for a very long time, and her impact was felt more deeply than others with whom you had a longer relationship._

Cassie Layla 

_You don’t meet Castiel until you’re 29, and by then, the lessons of your time with Cassie and Layla have been internalized. You need someone who believes in you, someone with a pure, clear, unshakeable faith in goodness, if not God, someone who loves you, trusts you, wants only the best for you. And Cas meets all the requirements. But by then, you’ve been to Hell - he pulls you out - and you don’t believe you’re worthy of the love of an Angel of the Lord. You don’t believe he could ever want you. So, you don’t even acknowledge to yourself that Cas is probably the only entity in your life who could measure up, and with the patience to put up with you. So, for eleven years, until you’re 40, you long and you pine and you dance away from it in your mind, trying not to get hurt… until one night, Cas finally breaks down enough to admit that he’s in love with you - and the wall of conflicting emotions you’ve built up in your mind comes crashing right down, and you admit that you’re in love with him, too._

_Thank you, Dean, for having chosen such wonderful women to love. Without Layla and Cassie, I don’t know that I could really fully appreciate Castiel, and what it means to have him in my life._

_Dean_

_***_

Dean capped his pen, smiled softly, thinking of his angel, and closed his notebook. He left it out on the desk, intending to ask Cas if he wanted to read more of the journal that evening.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's overweening sense of responsibility rearing its ugly head, there. After being told from the age of four that everything rests on his shoulders - take care of Sammy, boy! - he's so used to thinking he has to take care of everything that even though he knows there's nothing he can do here, he has trouble sitting still and doing nothing. He knows it's irrational. He can't help it. Learned response. "There's trouble? It's my responsibility!" No, Dean, it's really not. ;)
> 
> Dean did pick two winners on which to model his "perfect woman," really. Cassie taught him that he needed to be trusted and believed in, that he couldn't get by without that, because she didn't believe in him. Layla taught him to have faith, even when the chips are down. They didn't even know each other all that well, but Layla believed in Dean. So, she also taught him that he needed that connection with someone who believes in him. And that's how he knows that things with Cas will work - because he knows that Cas has always believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself. ;D
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Please comment! ;)


	179. Checking Out the New Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas meets Amy. Cas and Claire chat.

While Dean was writing, Cas flew up to Sioux Falls to check for bleed-through spots. He found a total of three along the way there, and seven in the city itself - oddly, three of those were on the Salvage Yard property. He fixed them as he found them, drawing on Lucifer’s power. As promised, Lucifer left him in the driver’s seat at all times, but did help him keep an eye out, peering out through the vessel’s eyes until Cas had to ask him to stop after the second spot was found - not because he was in the way, but because both of them looking out at once was giving Cas a slight headache. Lucifer snapped up a book, and retreated to a corner to read after that, passively allowing Cas access to his power, and not seeming to have taken any insult.

After the last spot was closed, Cas checked over the Salvage Yard and the house, found the box of additional books that Sam had requested he bring back to the Bunker, and had a thought. He pulled out his cell phone and called Dean.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean answered.

“Hello, Dean. I’m at the Salvage Yard, and Sam wanted me to bring back a box of books that he left in the house. Is there anything you want me to bring back for you? If you wanted to get started with restoration of one of the vehicles from the inventory here, and it was one that was driveable, I could drive it home, if you like.”

“Aww, thanks for thinking of that, Cas, but no. I’m going to start with the classic cars here in the Bunker’s garage that the Men of Letters left behind. They’re all antiques, and then we’ll have more room in the garage; then we can start bringing vehicles back to the Bunker from the Yard. But see if Jody got any responses from people interested in the jobs she and I posted, for people to work at the Yard. If she got any written applications, I’d like to see those. And if you want to bring Claire back with you, so we can talk to her together, that’d be nice, if she wants to come. But other than that, no, I don’t need anything, Angel.”

“All right, Dean. I’ll find out about the applications, and I was already going to be speaking with Claire about coming back with me. Either way, I’ll be back this evening.”

“Sounds good, Cas. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Cas ended the call. He picked up Sam’s box, and flew to Jody’s, landing in front of the middle of the garage, where he couldn’t immediately be seen from the house. After all, he didn’t know who might be at the house in the early afternoon, and, while he hadn’t met Amy yet, he’d heard about her and knew that she might be there, and hadn’t had the experience of seeing him materialize. He didn’t want to take a chance of scaring her, or anyone else, or having to explain things to anyone, so he was taking no chances.

He walked to the porch, and knocked on the door. A young girl opened the inside door, but left the screen door latched. 

“Hello,” she said. “Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel. You must be Amy.”

“Oh. I’ve heard of you. Yes, I’m Amy. Look, I hope you don’t mind, Castiel, but since I’ve never met you or even seen a picture of you before, and don’t know what you’re supposed to look like, I’ll have to get someone to verify that it’s actually you, before I can let you in.”

“Very sensible. I approve.” He nodded solemnly.

“Thank you. Please wait here.” The girl, who Cas assumed was Amy, disappeared into the house, and Cas could hear voices, though he couldn’t hear what was said. He was pleased that she’d had the sense not to simply yell for someone, but apparently had actually gone to get someone.

The inside door swung open a bit further, and there was Claire. “Hey, Cas. Sorry about that. C’mon in.” She unlatched the screen door, and pushed it open for him.

“Hello, Claire. How are you?” he had time to ask before she was wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Good! I missed you,” she said, grinning at him.

“I was here not two weeks ago, Claire.”

“I know! It’s been forever, Cas!” She laughed, and he smiled at her. She turned to the young girl, who was now sitting on the couch. “Amy? This is, indeed, Castiel. You can probably call him Cas.”

“That would be acceptable, yes.” Cas smiled gently at Amy, and she timidly smiled back. “I’ve heard about you, as well, Amy. Jody asked me to check you over, and to see if there was anything I can do to help correct any lingering health effects you might have from your time in stasis. May I sit next to you?”

Amy nodded. 

“I understand that you were in stasis for thirty years, and that you were awake or at least aware, but largely ignored, for a good part of that time, correct?”

Amy nodded again.

“May I touch just your forehead?” Cas asked. He waited to do so until she nodded yet again.

Amy closed her eyes as his fingers made contact with her skin. Castiel studied the child, his eyes looking at the same time that his grace searched for health problems within her. He had a brief internal consultation with Lucifer, which he kept silent so the girls couldn’t hear.

“Find anything, Cas?” Claire asked.

“Well, Amy, you were slightly malnourished. I’ve fixed that, but Jody will probably want to put you on a multivitamin, if she hasn’t already. Other than that, there were some issues with your bones; you likely didn’t have access to much calcium while in stasis, and your bones still feel the lack. I’ve boosted that a bit, but I don’t want to do too much, because your bones need to grow. So you’ll likely want to drink a lot of milk, probably a glass with each meal and maybe an additional one mid-afternoon. Now, I could help you to grow more quickly, but my understanding from Jody is that you’re a ward of the state, officially, and the state believes you to be four years old. While that’s awkward for you, because intellectually you’re an adult, with some gaps in your education, if we make you grow too fast, the state could make an issue of that, too. If you’re supposed to be five, but someone comes to check up on things and there’s what looks like a twelve-year-old and no five-year-old, Jody could get into trouble. See?”

“Yes, I see.” Amy sighed a little, but she did understand.

“The alternative is for Jody to seek permission for you to attend boarding school, and once that’s granted, you could leave the state. You could come and visit us, and be home-schooled with our son, Jack, who looks and acts like he’s in his twenties, but is actually only four years old. He has some of the same gaps in his educational background that you have in yours.”

“Was Jack a shtriga victim, too?” Amy asked, interested.

“No,” Cas told her. “Jack is a nephilim - half human, half angel - and he has certain powers as a result. He sensed danger right after his birth, and made himself grow to adult size as a protection measure, and now he has to catch up mentally and emotionally. He does fairly well, but he has occasional… lapses in judgment, because he lacks the experience to know how to handle certain situations. But he’s very sweet and kind, generally. I think you’d like each other.”

“I can’t even register for kindergarten for another year, though,” Amy pointed out.

“Not here, and not in public school, no.” Cas nodded. “We don’t need to make decisions immediately.”

“True. I have plenty of time, especially if you can’t just ‘grow’ me.” Amy sighed again. “May I be excused? I have an interesting book that I’ve been reading, and I would like to get back to it.”

“Certainly.” 

Amy smiled at the angel. “Thank you for helping, Castiel. I hope you didn’t think I was unappreciative. I’m frustrated, but with the situation, not with you. I know everyone is doing all they can.” 

Amy 

Cas smiled back, and Amy headed up the stairs to read in her bedroom.

“Thanks, Cas,” Claire said. “She’s been through a lot, and tends to be kind of formal, especially when she’s with someone new. At least she smiles, now.”

“She’s sweet. Her situation isn’t her fault, and I certainly don’t blame her for her frustration.” Cas smiled at Claire. “Now, I have a question for you.”

“What’s up, Cas?”

“Well, I told you on the phone that Dean and I had some news for you. Dean couldn’t be here because of the on-going federal investigation, but he wanted to be present when you heard this news. So, I can call him and we can put him on speaker, or Facetime, but the other idea we had was that, if you wanted to, I could fly you back to the Bunker with me, and you could have dinner with us, and then Dean could be present in person. But it’s up to you.”

“You’ve never offered to fly me anywhere before, Cas. I think that might be cool! But could you maybe give me a hint about this news of yours?” Claire wheedled.

“Nope. No hints. One way or another, on the phone or in person, Dean’s going to be in on telling you.” Cas grinned. “It’s good news, that’s all the hint you get.”

“Oh! Fine. But yeah, I’d like to see the Bunker, and Dean, and Sam, and whoever else is around. So, yeah, I’ll go with you, but I should let Jody know where I’ll be.”

“That’s fine. I need to speak with Jody myself. I guess she was collecting applications for Dean to review, for people to work at the Salvage Yard, and Dean wanted me to bring any written applications back so he can look them over.”

“Okay, well, she should be home shortly; she went in early this morning because of the clock problems. I guess people just would not stop calling the station about it.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amy seems to be adjusting a bit better. :)  
> Cas didn't give any hints, and Claire apparently didn't pick up on the ring. She might not have realized what it meant even if she saw it, though. Last she knew, Cas was mad at Dean because of how Dean had treated her. She doesn't even know they're together, yet, much less engaged. ;)
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Please comment! :)


	180. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with her deputies saves Donna from Doug. Claire goes with Cas and meets Shann.

It had been a very long day. The phone had not stopped ringing. Donna was exhausted. She pulled into her driveway, parked the truck and turned off the engine, collected her purse and the work she’d brought home, opened the door, and slid out to the ground. She yawned as she closed the door of the truck behind her, then turned to trudge to the house - and ran headfirst into what felt like a solid wall. She backed up a step, startled, and looked up.

“Oh! Doug! You startled me.”

“How’d you do it, Donna?” Doug’s voice was low and intense, accusatory yet still wondering, as if he couldn’t quite tell whether he should be angry or impressed.

“Do what, Doug?” Donna pushed past him and dug out her house keys. It was cold, she was tired, and she wanted to get inside.

“You got my attorney arrested. I don’t know how you managed it, but you have to know these trumped-up charges won’t stick, Donna.” Now he had the tone of someone trying to use the cold voice of reason to win an argument, except that what he was saying wasn’t reasonable.

“Doug, I already told you, I had nothing to do with getting your attorney arrested. I don’t have that kind of power.”

“You have that kind of _money_ , Donna! All you had to do was cut me in! I just wanted my fair share!”

Doug 

“Doug, you’re being ridiculous.” Donna unlocked the door and, at the same time, hit the emergency call button on her cell phone, which she left hidden in her purse; she knew the call would go directly to her own dispatcher, and they’d had training just last month on how to handle calls where nothing was said directly, but they could hear the sounds of a possible altercation in the background. She was glad now that she’d let her attorney talk her into obtaining the restraining order. “Look, it’s cold out here. Come inside, I’ll make us some coffee, and we can sit down and have a nice chat like reasonable adults.”

“Dammit, Donna! Tell me how you did it!” Doug blocked the door from being opened with his hand and lightly shoved Donna back toward the truck.

“Doug, calm down. There’s no reason for violence. I’ve told you, I didn’t do anything. I had nothing to do with your attorney getting arrested. I didn’t even know about it until you told me. Now, I would like to go inside the house and get warm. It’s cold out here. So, I suggest you move out of the way and stop blocking the door.”

In the distance, a siren wailed briefly, then cut out. Donna smiled internally. It meant that her deputies were on the way, but were running quiet, so as not to set Doug off with the knowledge of their approach. 

“Yeah, okay, I guess… I guess a cup of coffee would be good, yeah.” Doug moved out of the way, and Donna slipped past him into the kitchen and turned on the overhead light. 

She set her purse down on the counter with the top gaping open just a bit; Doug wouldn’t be able to see the phone, but if dispatch had done what she anticipated and patched her through to the deputies in the car, they’d be able to hear everything that was said. “Okay, I’m just gonna get the coffeemaker going here, then. Why don’t you have a seat?” 

She busied herself with the coffee and the filter and filling the pot with water.

Doug ignored the offer of a chair. “I didn’t appreciate being served with a restraining order at the station, Donna. You made me look bad in front of my deputies.”

“Well, Doug, I don’t appreciate feeling like I’m being threatened.” Good, he’d been served, and he was aware of the order’s terms; that made his being here a knowing violation.

A car door shut in the driveway; then another.

“Who’s that? Who’s here?” Doug’s voice sounded panicky.

“Oh, that’s just _my_ deputies. You know Billy and Clark, don’t you, Doug?” Donna said, as she opened the door.

Billy and Clark stepped in. “Evenin’ Donna.”

“Hey, Billy, Clark. Coffee’s on, it’ll be ready in just a sec, here.”

“So, Doug,” said Billy. “What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while, not since you stopped by the station for those records.”

Donna, reaching into the cupboard for mugs, grinned. Billy and Clark knew Doug was armed, and were trying to deescalate the situation and keep Doug calm. 

_I’m gonna have to do something special to reward these guys. That training really stuck with ‘em._

“Um, not much, Billy. Um. Yeah.” Doug seemed to shrink a little in the presence of the deputies. “What...what are you guys doing here?”

“We have a meeting with Donna. There were a lot of calls today, couldn’t fit it in at the station, so we decided to meet this evening, here, when things had calmed down a bit.” Clark smiled at Doug, but subtly left his hand resting on his holster.

“Yeah, Doug, we’ve got a meeting. So, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to skedaddle. You understand how these work things go,” Donna smiled. “Did you want to take some coffee to go? I think I’ve got some to-go cups.”

“Um. No. No, no coffee, thanks. I’m sorry, Donna, I’m not really sure why I’m even here,” Doug said, looking suddenly confused.

“Let me walk you to your car, Doug,” Billy offered, holding the door for him.

Clark winked at Donna as he followed Billy and Doug outside. Once they had Doug out of the house and away from Donna, the deputies arrested him for violation of the restraining order; he went quietly. Donna breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

_Definitely doing something special for those two._

***

“Okay, that’s all the written applications. Can’t believe we got so many, but there are a lot of people out of work, despite the economy.” Jody handed Castiel a folder. “I had some calls to indicate interest, too, and took some messages, but I think anyone serious about wanting the job came in and filled out the form, so that should be everyone that Dean should really be looking at, I think.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you, Jody.”

They were in Jody’s office; Claire was upstairs packing an overnight bag.

“So, what’s this news? Can you tell me?” Jody asked.

Cas grinned and flashed her his ring. “Claire didn’t notice.”

“Oh my goodness!” Jody gasped. “Let me see!” She took his hand to better study the ring. “Oh, Cas, this is beautiful. Did Dean pick this out?”

Cas nodded. “He surprised me. His is identical, except that there are engravings inside each. Mine says ‘Dean’s Angel,’ and his says ‘Cas’ Heart.’”

“That boy done good. These are gorgeous. Oh, I’m so pleased. I’ll expect an invitation!”

“Of course. We haven’t set a date yet, though.”

“Well, when you do. You happy?”

“Very.” Cas smiled and Jody gave him a hug.

“You don’t mind that I’m taking Claire with me, do you?”

“Of course not. I think it’s sweet that the two of you want to tell her your news together.” Jody went out into the living room and crossed to the foot of the stairs. “Claire, get a move on!”

Cas grinned. “She’s fine.”

“I know, but she’ll take forever if she’s not prodded a little.” 

Claire came down the stairs. “Ugh, I’m coming, I’m coming! Chill!”

Cas laughed. “Got everything?” 

Claire shot them each a dark look. “We’re just going to Kansas, not darkest Borneo. I don’t need that much. And I wasn’t taking that long!” 

Jody laughed. “All right, all right. Have fun, see you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye.” Claire gave her a hug, then stepped over to Castiel. “So, how do we do this?”

“Well, I get my box and put this folder in it so I don’t lose it on the way, and I take the box in one hand, and you in the other,” Cas put his arm around Claire’s waist, “And then...we go.” And they were standing in the Bunker’s parking lot, next to Shann’s car.

“Wait, we’re...already here?” Claire gasped.

“Yup. We’re here.” Cas grinned. “Come on.” He led the way down the steps to the iron door, got his key out and opened it, and escorted Claire inside. “Careful on the stairs, they’re iron and can be a little slippery; hold the bannister.”

Claire grabbed the bannister and followed Cas down the stairs and into the War Room, looking around at everything.

Cas stuck his head in the kitchen, figuring Dean would be there, but no. “Huh. I wonder where Dean is?” He came back out into the War Room. “Well, I thought Dean would be in the kitchen, but he’s not, and it doesn’t look like he’s started dinner yet. You want a tour, and maybe we’ll find him along the way?”

“Sure! Wow, this place is huge!” Claire’s eyes were wide.

“Well, this is called the War Room, because of the Map Table, which seats fifteen people comfortably, and more if you squeeze.” 

Claire noticed the map on the table, then. “Oh, cool!”

Cas gestured, “And the kitchen is in there, along with the pantry.” 

Claire stuck her head in to take a glance at the kitchen. “Okay. What’s next?”

“Through here is the library…” Cas led her through the door into the library, “and this is Shann, Sam’s assistant. Shann, this is Claire.”

Shann got up from his seat and offered Claire his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Claire smiled and shook his hand.

“Shann, I don’t suppose you know where everyone is?” Cas asked.

“Not a clue, sorry. I’ve been pretty focused on the translation work. I know they’re around, though.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now Doug and his attorney are both in jail; wonder if either will be available for the Thursday morning hearing? ;)  
> What should Donna do to reward her dispatcher and the deputies? They all remembered their training! :D  
> Gotta love Jody. Claire got to fly! :D 
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment!
> 
> [Sorry about the delay in updating. It's been a rough week. Bad news: found out on Monday that my cancer has returned. Good news: it's very minimal this time, we caught it early, should be a matter of a single minor surgery, technically a biopsy, though she'll get all of it at once, and then one round of chemo. Not that chemo is good news, but hey, it's better than it could've been. So, I was in and out of doctors' offices, labs, and the MRI tube this week, which didn't leave much time for writing. Surgery is scheduled for July 23rd. I am NOT abandoning this story, but I may be slower to update for a while. *shrug* Real life, y'know? *sigh*]


	181. Group Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara makes a call and gets called out. Claire calls Cas her father, and gets told the news. Sam gives Shann a bonus and gets called the best boss ever. Shann takes a picture and calls it "Group Hug."

Amara’s stomach rumbled. 

_ How can I be hungry already? It can’t be that late, Chuck was supposed to come, and… Oh. _

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her brother’s number. It went directly to voice mail.

_ Ohh. Hmm. _

She dialed another, international number; it also went directly to voice mail.

_ Hmm.  _

She dialed a third, also international, number. 

“Hello, Amara.”

“Marduk, darling. Long time.”

“Yes, it has been a long time. I expect it will be longer still, before I hear from you again, after today.”

“What?” Amara’s voice dripped with innocence. “What ever do you mean, Marduk?”

“I mean that I don’t appreciate you setting Light after my partner. I mean that I don’t know why you did it, but I know you tried to set Tia up as your fall guy.”

“Would I do that?”

“You  _ did _ do that.”

“Marduk, honestly. I acted on bad information, that’s all. I had no evil intent toward you and Tia. Why, you’re my favorite cousins!”

“Uh huh. You’re doing what you’ve always done - treating us like mushrooms; that is, keeping us in the dark and feeding us bullshit. Go sell it somewhere else, Darkness. Light gave Tia a fair shot.” With that, Marduk ended the call.

Amara slid her phone back into her pocket. “Well, shit. Worth a shot.” She shrugged.

***

As Castiel and Claire stepped out of the library to continue the tour, Dean and Sam came into the War Room from the direction of the bedrooms.

“Hey, Claire!” Sam exclaimed and lumbered over to give her a hug. 

“Hi, Sam.” She smiled as she hugged back.

Dean waited until Claire stepped back and turned toward him. “Hey, Claire-Bear,” he said, quietly.

“Stop it,” she warned, and stepped over to hug him, as well. Dean hugged back, relieved.

“So? What’s this  _ news _ that’s so important Cas had to fly me here from South Dakota?” Claire demanded.

Sam pulled a chair out from the Map Table for her, as Dean and Castiel pulled chairs out for themselves. Once Claire was seated, Sam gave a little wave, and headed toward the library, to let the three of them talk.

“This is  _ good _ news, right? No one’s dying, yeah?” Claire was starting to look a little nervous.

“Nothing like that, no. Promise. All good,” Dean told her.

Castiel took her hand. “Claire, after Jimmy died, I felt a responsibility to you. An obligation. At the time, that’s  _ all  _ it was, and I think that’s why you rejected me - you could feel that there was nothing more lying behind my actions than that basic duty. I hope you know that’s not what I feel now.”

Claire nodded. “I know, Cas. We’re family, not necessarily by blood, but by emotions. For a long time now, I’ve basically felt like you kind of are, well, my dad. Not that you’re  _ Jimmy _ , but that you’ve actually been in my life now longer than he was, and you’ve taken care of me and provided for me as best you could - well, as much as I would let you. I love you, Cas. In every way that matters at this point, you  _ are  _ my father.”

“I love you, too, Claire. And I’m glad that you feel that way, because I have a favor to ask of you.” Cas smiled softly.

“Um, okay.... What?”

“Will you be the Maid of Honor in my wedding?” Cas asked.

“Oh! Oh my goodness! Yes! But, who… wait.  _ No _ !” Claire looked from Cas to Dean and from Dean to Cas, her head swiveling back and forth as they each held up their left hands to show off their matching rings. “ _ Really _ ?” Her voice squeaked.

Dean grinned. “Really.”

Cas nodded, his own smile huge.

“You guys! That’s so  _ cool _ !” Claire launched herself into Cas’ arms and hugged him tightly. “Wait. I don’t have to wear a dress and be all _girly_ , do I?”

“How about a tux?” Dean asked.

“Excellent!” Claire beamed, and swung around to hug Dean just as tightly. 

***

Sam checked in with Shann. “How close are you to finishing up that translation? You think you’ll have it done this week?”

“The basic Spanish to English translation of the text, yes; I’m almost done with that now. But I’m still working on the comparison between the text from our universe to the one I brought back from the alternate universe - they’re very different, yet entirely complementary to one another, they don’t seem to contradict each other at all - and that might take about another week, yet, if that’s okay.”

“No, yeah, it’s fine. You’ve been really pounding away at it, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate all your effort, Shann. I, ah, asked the agency to pay you triple your base rate for all your overtime these past two weeks, and to raise your base rate starting next week Monday. And, here, this is for you.” Sam handed Shann an envelope.

“What’s this?” Shann asked, as he started to tear it open.

“It’s from me and Gabe, both, as a special way to say ‘thank you’ for taking so much off of my plate. You really picked up the ball and ran with it, and we know this wasn’t exactly an easy transition, but you’ve handled everything we’ve thrown at you, including taking messages from Death, which wasn’t intended to be part of the deal. So, we thought we really ought to do something more for you than just the base compensation.”

In the envelope, Shann found a fairly standard ‘thank you’ note card - but inside that, he found the “special” thank you - tickets and vouchers for an all-expense-paid vacation for two. He stared at it dumbly..

“There’s no destination listed, you can really go anywhere you want. Gabe has a friend who owns some travel agency or something, he was able to put this package together for you. If you want to take someone with you, you can; or you can decide to take two trips yourself. However you want to work it. We’ll find a way to manage without you for whenever you decide to go.” 

Shann looked up from the papers in his hand to Sam’s face, slowly, in utter shock. “Sam… I can’t. This is… this is way too much.”

“No, it’s really not. You can’t imagine how much weight you’ve lifted off my shoulders, Shann. Even when I called the agency, I didn’t really have the expectation that this could or would work out all that well. I just couldn’t imagine hiring someone directly, and I knew I needed help. But you really surpassed every hope I had for bringing in someone who could take to what we do here, and you’ve really made the job your own. And I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate all of your extra efforts and your late hours, and how well you’ve fit in with the rest of us. You had your little moments of freaking out, but you didn’t let it impact the work, and you kept coming back. So, thank you.”

Shann blinked. "Best. Boss. Ever."

***

“We need a picture! Get Sam in here, too!” Claire exclaimed. 

“Good idea, Claire.” Cas smiled.

“Hey, Sammy!” Dean called. “Get in here, you’re needed for pictures!”

Sam and Shann came out of the library. 

“I can take the picture, if you all want to be in one,” Shann offered. Cas handed Shann his cell phone and showed him how to center the frame and focus the shot. 

Then Sam, Castiel, Claire, and Dean hugged, Claire in the center, with their faces turned toward Shann, and he snapped it.

_ Group Hug  _

“Send that to me, please!” Claire demanded.

Sam and Dean asked for copies, as well, and Cas sent it to all of them.

“Time to start dinner,” Dean said.

“Oh, let’s just order in, my treat, guys,” Claire insisted. “Pizza, Chinese, whatever you want. Who else is here tonight? Let’s get everyone in here.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, looks like that came back to bite Amara on her butt, huh? ;)  
> Yay, Claire and Cas and Dean! Family don't end in blood. :D  
> Sam really IS the best boss ever! 
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment! :D


	182. After the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean clean up and Dean asks Sam a question. Kathy talks to her mom and then finds something's wrong with Chuck. Cas and Dean go star-gazing. Shann hangs out with Billie at her place.

After dinner, Shann had taken off for home for the night; Cas had flown Claire back to Sioux Falls and would return soon; Balthazar and Hannah had gone to their own rooms; and Gabriel had gone into the library to look up a recipe he wanted for the morning. Dean and Sam were picking up in the War Room after the impromptu pizza party, putting paper plates and plastic cups that had somehow gotten scattered everywhere into two large plastic trash bags. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, um, Sammy?”

“It’s _Sam_ , Dean.” Sam grumbled, but he was smiling, his back to Dean.

“Yeah, whatever. Look, I just _assumed_ you would, but I never actually _said_ anything, and then, tonight, Cas asked Claire, and made it into kind of a big deal, so I realized that maybe I _should_ actually say, y’know, I mean, you _are_ gonna be my best man, right?”

Sam stopped what he was doing, and swiveled to look at Dean, a deep, wide grin slowly blooming. “Finally!”

***

As Kathy parked in her driveway and turned off the ignition, her cell phone rang. “Hello?... Oh, hi, mom.... Yeah, I know, sorry, I meant to call after church yesterday, but I just got busy…. Mmhmm… Oh, no, I won’t be here… No, I’m not staying at the park for the winter this year. We’re closed for the season, and I did winter duty last year, it’s Peter’s turn, and Paula’s new, so the two of them are taking it, and I’m off… Well, I’ll be home for Christmas, sure, but no, I actually have somewhere to be, mom….” She finished gathering her things, adjusted the phone against her shoulder, and opened the car door. 

“Yeah, mom, I told you, I’m seeing someone… Yes, mom, a nice guy… Yes, mom, a cute guy… Yes, he’s very sweet, mom….” She slid out and stood, sliding the strap of her purse over her right shoulder while holding the cell phone with her left shoulder, and grabbing a box out of the back seat. 

“Well, he’s an author, mom… Yes, he’s been published, mom… A whole series of books, previously, and now he’s doing a sequel trilogy, and they want him to do a book tour, and he’s asked me to come with him, since I’m off for the winter… All over the US, maybe Canada… Mmhmm… Well, I’ll ask if he’d like to come with me at Christmas, but I don’t know what he’ll say, I’ll have to let you know, mom…” She walked up to the front door of the cabin, and slid her key in the lock, all without having once actually looked at the house.

“Mom, I’m just walking in the front door right now. Let me get inside and settled, and I’ll call you back later, okay?... Oh, well, all right, mom, sure, you can call me tomorrow, that works, too… Okay… Yes, mom… No, mom… I will, mom… I love you, too, mom….” She switched on the lamp and set her purse down, heading into the kitchen on autopilot, not even wondering why the light hadn’t been on already, or why something delicious-smelling wasn’t waiting on the table for the first time since Chuck had taken over cooking a while ago.

“Okay, mom, I will, give my love to dad. Okay. Bye.” She ended the call, and set the phone down on the counter, as she pulled out a package of steaks and a couple of potatoes. She glanced up, and saw Chuck sitting on the couch in the living room. He was just sitting there, unmoving, and apparently had been sitting in the dark until she’d entered and turned on the light, but even then, it didn’t appear that he’d moved at all. He was staring off into space, straight ahead, not seeming to have noticed the light, or her, at all.

She set the food down next to the cell phone on the counter, and walked around it and over to kneel in front of him, looking up into his unblinking eyes.

“Chuck?” She grabbed his arms gently and lightly shook him, but he took no notice.

“Chuck!”

***

Cas dropped Claire off at home and said good night, then flew back over to the Salvage Yard to check to be sure that the nighttime lighting for which Dean had arranged was working properly. He rechecked to make sure the house was locked up and that the Yard’s gate was shut properly, then he flew back to the Bunker, landing outside. 

The night was still and fresh, briskly cool, but with almost no wind. There were no clouds, and the stars were out. Cas had an idea, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dialing a number quickly, rather than heading inside.

“Hello, Dean. Put on a coat and hat, and come outside, will you? I want to show you something… Yes, I’m right out front in the parking lot, my heart.” When Dean said he’d be right out, he ended the call, and leaned against the railing to wait. A few moments later, he heard the creaking of the iron door hinges, then the clang of the door shutting, as Dean joined him outside. Dean came to lean next to him, and he smiled.

“So, what did you want to show me, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded, pointing with his chin. “Look up, Dean.”

Dean looked up in the indicated direction, and saw the bright stars. Being so far out of town, the lights of Lebanon didn’t impact their view. “Beautiful.” He slid an arm around Cas’ shoulder, and the two of them stood there, content to watch the sky in the cool night air.

After a few moments, Dean hopped up to sit on the railing. He knew it would be too cold to stay there for long, but he could manage it for a little while. He pulled Cas gently over between his legs, and leaned down to rest his chin on the top of Cas’ head, his arms around the angel’s shoulders.

“So, you asked Claire to be the Maid of Honor, and I asked Sam to be my Best Man. Were you going to ask anyone else to be in the wedding party? Gabe, or maybe Balthazar, or Hannah?” Dean inquired.

“I thought I’d ask Gabe, and maybe we could ask Jack? And then I think anyone else can just be a guest, if that works for you,” Cas replied.

“That makes sense. Both of our brothers, and both of our kids.” Dean smiled, and set a soft kiss along Cas’ hairline. Cas smiled. 

“I saw something on a television show once, and I thought of it again today, when we were talking to Claire. The idea was that the bride and groom wanted to honor loved ones who were not able to attend their wedding, because they had died, or they were serving overseas in the military, or whatever, so they put their pictures up on a stand near the front, as if the picture was taking the place of the person as a guest in the audience. So, I thought, would you like to have, maybe, pictures of other family members? Mary, John, or Bobby? Or Adam? Or Emma and Ben?” Cas suggested.

Dean froze for a moment, startled a little, then smiled. “No. But thank you for thinking of it, Angel.”

Cas nodded, and leaned back a bit, into Dean’s warmth. “Maybe we should head inside, love. It’s starting to get cold.”

“Okay.” Cas moved forward a bit and Dean slid down to the ground, following him down the steps to the door.

As Cas was opening the door, Dean looked up at the stars again, and thought that one or two of them, just for a moment, twinkled a little bit brighter. He smiled, and followed his angel inside.

***

Shann got all the way to the hall right outside his apartment door before realizing that he had forgotten to talk with Gabe or Sam about Lucifer’s offer. He rubbed his eye, then swept his hand back through his hair. “I...am an idiot.” He shook his head, then slid his key into the lock, and opened his front door. He stepped inside, put his keys in his pocket, then glanced up briefly.

Then, eyes widening, he looked around, slowly, at the row after row after row of black shelving units, containing black-box bound books, each row of shelf marked with a letter of the alphabet.

“This is not my apartment… What the….”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Billie stepped out from between two shelves and grinned at Shann. "This is part of my office, actually.”

“Um. Hi, Billie. Did I forget something?” 

“Nope. I just thought, you know, when we hang out, it’s usually at your place. But my place is bigger, so I thought I’d bring you here for a change. That’s all. Want a beer?”

“Um, okay. Thanks.” 

Billie led him past additional shelving, into a more open area with deep soft sofas in a U design, open toward a large fireplace with a cheerful fire burning. She opened a small refrigerator and took out two bottles of beer, handing one to Shann. Above the mantelpiece was a very large flat-screen TV. 

_Death’s Living Room and Library_

“We could watch a game, or I’ve got all the gaming systems - my predecessor loved Pong and Oregon Trail, so there’s even an old Atari, which I think still works - or there’s movies and stuff. Did you eat dinner?”

“Yeah, we had pizza at work.”

“Oh? You seem to eat there a lot.”

“Perk of the job. Gabe bakes pretty much constantly, Dean makes too much for just about every meal, there’s always tons. I don’t usually eat dinner there, but they were kind of celebrating tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that about?” Billie sat down on one of the sofas, and gestured to invite Shann to be seated, as well. He sat down to her left, kitty-corner, close enough to talk comfortably, but not so near that it felt like they were on top of each other. He took a swig of beer.

“Well, I assume you know that Dean and Cas are…”

“Engaged? Yeah. Assume I know just about everything about the two of them, and Sam.” Billie smiled.

“Right. Well, apparently, they hadn’t told Claire, who I guess is kind of somehow Cas’ daughter? I’m not really clear on the connection, since when I asked, Gabe said she’s human.”

“Ah. Claire isn’t exactly Cas’ daughter; Cas is in the body of Claire’s late father, Jimmy. But Cas has actually, at this point, been in Claire’s life for longer than Jimmy was, and, to be honest, in some ways, Cas takes better care of Claire than Jimmy ever did. So, since that whole group’s unofficial motto is ‘family don’t end in blood,’ at this point, Cas might as well _be_ Claire’s father. So, they finally got around to telling her? Well, good for them.”

“Yeah, and I guess she was so pleased that she decided to order pizza and feed everyone in the place. Seemed like it’d be rude to say no when she was so happy, but I kinda felt like I should chip in or something. But no one else offered, so I didn’t either.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Claire’s loaded, from Jimmy’s life insurance payout. Pizza for that crew wouldn’t even begin to put a dent in her bank account. So, what do you think? Movie?”

“Movie sounds good. What are the choices?” Shann smiled.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding plan progress!  
> What's up with Chuck? Hmmm!  
> Shann and Billie's friendship seems to be working out. Maybe he should ask her for her opinion about Lucifer's offer.... ;D
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Please comment! 
> 
> I miss y'all! Sorry about the slow updates, but every 3-4 days is probably going to be the norm for a bit here. Can't be helped. :(


	183. Monday Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck swims to the surface. Shann and Billie chat about Lucifer's offer. Dean and Cas chat about Lucifer's presence.

“Chuck!”

As if from the opposite end of a very long tunnel, Chuck heard someone calling his name. The voice was at once familiar, and utterly unknown, which confused him. 

“Chuck! Please! Snap out of it!” 

The voice seemed to be panicking a bit; Chuck wasn’t sure why, but if it was that important to the person speaking, he supposed he’d have to make an effort, but it seemed like responding would be more of an effort than he would have expected, and perhaps more than it would be worth. Still, the person seemed to think it was terribly important.

Chuck blinked.

“Chuck? Chuck, can you hear me? Blink twice for yes.”

He blinked, twice, and the tunnel seemed to recede a bit, as he felt himself metaphorically swimming to the surface.

He blinked again, and, continuing the underwater metaphor, cocked his head hard to the right, like he was trying to get water out of his ear after swimming. Maybe it would help. Maybe that’s why everything seemed to sound so distant. He looked up, and met the eyes of an attractive woman in her late twenties or perhaps early thirties. 

“Oh, you scared me!” The woman seemed relieved. He supposed that was a good thing.

“Um. Hi,” he offered quietly. “I don’t want to seem rude, but… who are you?”

***

“Mawwidge… is wut bwings us togedda… today. Mawwidge… that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam…” Shann grinned. “Oh, this movie has the best lines.”

“It really does. ‘Bye bye, boys. Have fun stormin’ da castle!’ ‘Think it’ll work?’ “It’d take a miracle!’” Billie laughed.

Shann hit the button on the remote that shut the TV off, set the remote down next to his leg on the couch, and rubbed his face. “Hate to say it, but I have to work tomorrow. I’d say I need to get home, but it’s kinda more like you need to get your office out of my apartment.”

Billie grinned. “Yeah, about that.” She pointed at a door off to the right. “See that door? It has two purposes. If you just want a bathroom, it goes to one. But if you want to leave, it’ll take you into your bedroom in your apartment. Walk back out of your bedroom, you should be in your living room. Pocket dimensions are so handy.”

Shann laughed. “So, will this be in my apartment all the time now, or is this a one-time thing?”

“Well, not  _ all  _ the time. If we decide to hang out here, it’s a convenient way to collect you. But yeah, next time, I’ll give you some warning. Although, I have to say, your face when you looked up and saw where you were was priceless.”

“Shut up!” Shann pretended to be offended, but then dissolved in laughter, ruining the effect. “Yeah, it probably was pretty funny.

“Hey, Billie, let me get your opinion on something.”

“Sure. ‘Sup?”

“The other night, Lucifer, through Castiel, offered to help with my research.”

“Okay, well, he was around at the beginning, so….”

“Yeah, no, clearly, he’d have insights, that’s not the issue.”

“Okay…?”

“Okay, so, this is the Lucifer that’s sharing the vessel with Cas, and Cas said he was offering to come into me, instead, so we could speak directly with each other. He said he’d let me drive, I’d be in control, he’d just be there to help me out, and when the research was done, we could decide for ourselves if we wanted to continue, or if I wanted him to leave, and if I said I wanted him to leave, he’d respect it, and go. I said I needed to think about it, and Cas said that Lucifer seemed to appreciate that, said he respected me for doing ‘due diligence.’ 

“Now, I’ve heard a lot about the Mark of Cain - Sam told me what it did to Dean, and Gabe told me how it changed Lucifer way back when - and if Lucifer still had the Mark, I would just say a flat ‘no thanks’ and be done with it. But the Mark’s gone, and Cas says Lucifer’s been nothing but helpful to him, lending his power and expertise with the bleed-through spots, et cetera. So, on the one hand, it could be a legitimate offer, borne out of a desire to seriously help out. But even without the Mark - Cas told me himself that Dean still struggles a bit with behaviors to which the Mark conditioned him, and he only had it for less than a year; Lucifer had it for millenia. So, what if it’s a trick, a trap? Cas is a seraph, he has powers of his own - I’m just this guy, y’know? If Lucifer wanted to take over, there’s nothing I could do to stop him. Am I missing something?” Shann asked.

“Well, one thing, yes - in order to possess someone, an angel needs that person’s active consent. If Lucifer tried to trick you, and take over, you could revoke consent, and that should be the end of that.”

“Except that Lucifer didn’t come out of Sam when Sam tried to revoke consent,” Shann pointed out.

“Ah, but Sam didn’t revoke consent, Shann. Sam tried to take back control, which is different. He was trying to trap Lucifer in his body, and that’s what he eventually did.”

“No, I don’t mean when Lucifer initially went into Sam. I’m talking about something Dean mentioned. Zachariah sent Dean to a future where Sam had said ‘yes’ to Lucifer but Dean had said ‘no’ to Michael, to show Dean what would happen to the world, how awful it would be if Lucifer won. And Sam had tried to revoke consent, and Lucifer had ignored him, and stayed in his body.”

“Oh, that. Well, that was fiction, Shann. Dean  _ did, _ in fact, say ‘no’ to Michael, and Lucifer didn’t win; that future didn’t happen. In fact, Zachariah didn’t even send Dean to an actual possible future timeline, he sent him to a pocket dimension populated with simulacrums of the people in Dean’s life. I’m not sure Dean ever realized that, but he told me about it once, and the broadest hint that it wasn’t real is that Chuck was there, as Chuck-the-prophet, not as Chuck-who-is-God-the-Father, and was hoarding toilet paper.

“No, if you revoked consent, Lucifer would have to leave. Even if you didn’t say it out loud, even if you just thought something along the lines of ‘I no longer consent to your using my body as your vessel,’ that would be enough to dislodge him.” Billie smiled. “Lucifer’s powerful, but the way the rules are established, he doesn’t have a choice. He has to ask and receive consent before he can enter a vessel, and if he loses active consent at any time, he’s booted. Period.”

“Well, that’s comforting, then. One less thing to worry about.” Shann grinned. “Still not sure which side of the balance sheet I’m coming down on, though.”

Billie nodded. “Sleep on it. Go on, head home. Get some rest.”

“As you wish.”

They grinned at each other, and Shann got up to head toward the magic bathroom door.

***

Dean flipped through the pages of his journal notebook, waiting for Cas to come back from the bathroom.

Cas slipped in from the hallway, and locked the door behind him. They exchanged a look, said, at once, “Gabriel,” and grinned at each other.

Castiel moved over to the closet to put something away, looking back at Dean when Dean cleared his throat.

“Um, Cas, did you want to read more of my journal? I have to write another entry in the morning - Mia gave me a specific assignment for tomorrow, before our session - but otherwise, it’s up to date, and I know that with Lucifer’s power you don’t need to sleep, so, if you need something to do….”

“Dean, if you’d like me to read it, of course, I will. I’m very interested, but would never read it without your express invitation to do so. If there are sections you want me to skip over, I’d….”

“No, there aren’t.” Dean cut Cas off at that idea. “You have an open invitation to read anything I’ve written, or will write, any time, as I’ve said before. I’m just suggesting that it might be a way to pass the time, if you’re up while I’m sleeping tonight, and need something to do.”

“All right,” Cas agreed. “I was thinking I’d come and lie down, though.”

“Oh. Are… are you tired?”

“Well, no, but I thought it might be nice to snuggle, at the very least. It’s been a few days since we last tried ‘one new thing,’ as well.”

“Well, I’m tired, so  _ that’s _ not happening!” Dean bit out, then turned away from Cas, toward the bed. He winced.

“Dean… Is… is something wrong, my heart?” Cas asked, quietly.

Dean sighed. “Not with  _ you _ , Angel. But when you and I are….”

“Intimate?”

“Yeah… I’d kinda like it to  _ just  _ be the two of us.” Dean winced again.

“And I invited Lucifer in, without consulting you, and now we don’t know how long he’ll be here, and you don’t want to be, but you’re upset with me, aren’t you?” Cas set a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder, near where his handprint had been, and Dean reached up to move it into place.

“It’s not your fault, Cas. But I’m not comfortable with having  _ him  _ be in there while you and I are  _ together _ . I don’t want you to  _ go _ , but…. I’m still getting used to having  _ you _ see me.”

Cas nodded. “And Luci’s not invited. No, I get it, Dean.” 

Dean quietly let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah?”

“Of course, love. I don’t like knowing that you’re uncomfortable, but I completely understand it, and I respect it.” Cas stepped up behind Dean and gently kissed the back of his neck. “I don’t need rest right now. But you do. Go on to sleep, my heart. I’ll read your journal, since you were kind enough to suggest it.”

Dean turned, and kissed Cas, soft and chaste. “Thank you, Angel.” 

_Dean and Cas_

Dean smiled a little, then turned back toward the bed. He sat down, slid under the blankets, then rolled to his side so he was facing away from the desk, his body stiff, as if he wasn't sure that he wouldn't be touched. He knew that sleep would be slow to come.

Cas turned on the reading light on the desk, and turned off the overhead light, then seated himself in the chair at the desk. He turned to the first page of the journal, but watched Dean, out of the corner of his eye, until Dean finally relaxed; then he began to read.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh... Seems our Chuck has some amnesia....
> 
> I think Billie has the rule correct, there, but Sam might have something to say about how well it works in practice, after what happened with Gadreel.... ;)
> 
> I don't really blame Dean. I think it'd feel weird to be intimate with one person while another looked on from within. Kinda gives me the creeps, so I totally get where Dean's coming from. Respectful Cas is kinda hot though, huh? ;)
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment! ;D


	184. Swimming Through Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck is politely humoring Kathy, but then passes out. Sam and Gabe chat.

“Are you feeling all right?” The woman peered at Chuck, then laid the back of her hand gently against his forehead. “No fever, that’s good, at least.”

“I feel… a little odd, actually. Um, could I possibly trouble you for a glass of water?” Chuck started coughing.

“Sure.” The woman stood and strode into the kitchen, returning in a moment with a glass of water.

He took a sip. “Thanks. Um. Sorry…?” Chuck smiled, politely.

_ Chuck  _

“Kathy. My name is Kathy, Chuck. You don’t remember?” The woman seemed concerned. 

“Remember...what, exactly, am I supposed to be remembering? Um, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, really, but I don’t know who you are, I don’t know where I am, and I have this sense of a great amount of time having passed, but only having been vaguely aware of any of it.” He swallowed down another large gulp of water. 

He had the sudden uncomfortable feeling that both his brain and his teeth were covered in wool. He heard the woman calling his name, and recognized that she seemed to be panicking again, as his arm dropped to his side on the couch cushion, the glass dropped to the floor, and he slipped back down into the tunnel.

***

“Hey, Samshine,” Gabe said, softly, as he entered their shared room.

Sam looked up from the book he was reading in bed, and smiled. “Hey. Everything all set for the morning?”

“Yup, got everything set up that I can set up ahead of time, I checked to be sure I have everything I need to make everything I want to make, and I think we are good for Jack being back tomorrow. Missing him?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to be down or depressed around Jack. Around you, too, but the kid’s just got so much _energy_ , y’know?”

Gabe grinned. “Yeah. Did Kelly give him a middle name? Is it too late to add ‘Tigger’ in there?”

Sam laughed.

Gabe sat down next to him on the bed. “So, _have_ you been feeling down, Sammykins?”

Sam nodded, his eyes on his book in his lap.

“You wanna talk about that? Or are you waiting to speak with Mia about it?”

Sam took a breath. “It’s not that I don’t think I _could_ speak with you about it, Gabe. It’s just that there are other things I’d rather be doing.” Sam looked up and caught the Archangel’s eye.

“Is that so?” Gabe grinned. “Well. I think we could make some arrangements in that regard. Scootch over a bit, there.”

Sam slid over and made more room for Gabe, who turned and laid back next to Sam, feet crossed on top of the covers. Gabe waved his hand, and Sam could see the universe, as if the ceiling and anything else between them and the stars was just gone.

“Stargaze with me for a bit, love?” Gabe asked gently.

Sam smiled, and cuddled close, eyes on the Heavens.

“The stars are bright tonight. Cas had Dean come outside to see, but it’s too cold for that for me,” Gabe admitted. “I’d much rather do this this way, snuggled up with you in a nice warm bed, in a nice warm room.”

“Mmm. Thank you, love. It _is_ nice.”

Gabe cupped Sam’s chin gently, and turned his face slightly in order to kiss him. It started out chaste and gentle, but Sam had other ideas, and surged up to meet Gabriel’s mouth with his own.

“We’ve been busy. I’ve missed this, missed you.” Gabe told him, shifting slightly so he was up on his hip, looking down at Sam. 

Sam reached up, slid his hand into Gabe’s hair, and tugged him gently back down. “Less talking. More kissing,” Sam said, as he slid his tongue gently across Gabe’s lips. Gabe opened up and let him in, his own tongue meeting Sam’s.

But then Gabe thought better of it, and sat up, slowly putting up a hand, and catching his breath. “Samshine, I’m all for it, believe me, but how far are you wanting to go? We’ve only done this just the one time, last week, and you seemed to regret it after….”

“No! Not _regret_ , no. God, Gabe, no.” Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry I gave you that impression, baby. Okay. I’ve clearly made a hash of things, so, much as I’d like to continue, you’re right, we need to talk a bit first.”

Gabe nodded. “I think we do, yeah.”

“Okay. So, last week, we kind of rushed into sex. That’s okay, we both wanted it, we’re consenting adults, and we’re in a committed relationship - we  _ had  _ talked about that much - it’s just that we hadn’t talked about _sex_ , and what each of us like or want beforehand, and so I ended up feeling a little like I was walking through a minefield. Or, rather, _sprinting_ through a minefield, since neither of us was willing to slow down or wait long enough to talk. And that’s on me, too, I’m not blaming you. So, it wasn’t that I regretted being with you, it was more that I regretted the fact that we didn’t talk more first, so I could feel more certain that we both liked what we did, and that we both got as much out of it as we could have. And now, here I am, rushing into things again.” Sam huffed out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh.

“Well, I’m glad that you want me enough to rush, but I’m also glad that you were willing to slow down and talk, Samshine. So, let me ask you this - how in-depth of a discussion do you want to have? Are we talking written contracts, and kink lists, or something more general, along the lines of ‘hey, I’m a switch, don’t really care if I’m on the bottom or the top, or in charge, or submitting; what’s your preference?’ Because I’m down for any and all of it, so it’s really up to you.” Gabe didn’t miss Sam’s eyes widening a bit at the mention of written contracts and kink lists.

“Um. Hmm. I… I don’t know that we need a written contract….” Sam trailed off, his face turning a bit pink, the tips of his ears dark red.

“Okay. Well, let me ask you this, then, Sam. Are you willing to explore kinky things, _at all_ , or would you prefer staying more to the vanilla side of sex? And understand, Sam, that it makes absolutely no difference to me what your answer is.”

“How can it make no difference at all, Gabe? If you haven’t had... some kind of experience with more than plain vanilla sex, you wouldn’t know to ask the question, or to mention contracts and kink lists. If you weren’t at least a little into that, you wouldn’t’ve have experimented with it. Having experimented with it, unless you decided you didn’t like it, it seems like you’d want to continue to experiment with it, and if I came along and said that _all_ I wanted was plain vanilla sex in the most boring of basic positions, that would _have_ to make a difference to you.”

“Sam…  _ are _ you saying that?”

“Well… no.”

Gabe laughed, and after a moment, Sam joined in.

“Put it this way, Sam - yes, I’ve had some experience with more-than-vanilla sex. And no, I didn’t dislike it. But I love  _ you _ . And that’s about _far_ more than just sex. So, if all you wanted was just plain vanilla, I’d be fine with that, because it’s  _ you _ . If you had a medical condition that meant that we could _never_ have sex, well, my right hand would likely get a workout, but I wouldn’t  _ leave  _ you. Samshine, I love you, and that’s forever, and that’s what matters most to me. Okay?”

Sam smiled. “Okay. And, for the record, that’s how I feel, as well.”

“Excellent. Thank you. So.  _ Are  _ you willing to explore kinky things, at all?”

“Some things, yes. Again, I don’t think we need to go as far as a written contract. I love and trust you, and you love and trust me. We can talk about what we want to have happen in any given time where we’re intimate, whether just before, or if it’s something that needs more planning, days ahead. And if, like tonight, we just fall into bed and are raring to go, well, I don’t mind that, either.”

“Right. Some things don’t need more discussion than which ‘Tab A’ goes into what ‘Slot B.’” Gabe grinned, and Sam snorted with laughter.

“Hey, if you can’t laugh at sex, you’re probably doing it wrong,” Sam grinned. “Ellen used to say that, it made Jo blush.”

“She has a point.” Gabe leaned down and kissed Sam’s nose gently. “So. Last time, it was your Tab A and my Slot B. Want to reverse that, or do that again?”

“I wouldn’t mind reversing that. How do you want me?” Sam asked

“Well, naked, first of all.”

“Fair’s fair; you, too.”

“Good point.” Gabe kissed Sam again, then stood to pull his shirt up and over his head, tossing it into the open hamper by the door. Sam slid out of bed, and toed off his socks, then slid his sweatpants and boxers down and off. The two of them made short work of getting out of the rest of their clothes, and then each slid under the blankets from opposite sides of the bed, meeting in the middle. 

“Hi.” Sam smiled softly and reached up to stroke Gabe’s hair gently.

“Hello.” Gabe smiled back, and leaned down to kiss Sam’s forehead again.

“Gabe, no matter what we do, it’s  _ us _ , so it’ll be good, and right. I love you.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, and let his head hang for a moment. “I don’t deserve you, Samuel Winchester, but I’m _so_ damn glad I have you.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh, Chuck's back in the tunnel.... Hmm. Doesn't seem to have having a very good time, does he?
> 
> Sammy and Gabe are trying to get this right. They both want this to last. Communication is important - maybe, if nothing else, watching Dean and Cas miscommunicate for 11 years taught Sam and Gabe something? ;)
> 
> More art! ;)
> 
> Please comment! :D
> 
> [A word about timing... I post each chapter as I write it. Sometimes, that means there are 3-4 chapters posted in a day. Lately, since I've not been feeling well, it's been more like 1 chapter every 3-4 days. There is no set schedule. Please do not ask when the next chapter will be up - I don't know any more than you do! The answer seriously is "when it's written" and I don't know when it will be written until it actually HAS BEEN written! I don't mean to sound cranky, and I'm sorry if I do, but I believe this has been explained previously, yet I still get asked. ;D FYI, I'm having surgery this Thursday, hopefully that will get all of the cells that are causing the pain, and then they'll give me some time to heal up, probably a few weeks, and then I'm anticipating that we'll do a 9-week round of chemo. Expect that I will probably NOT be posting anything new from Thursday morning until early next week. I may not even feel well enough to sit up and be on the computer / check comments, so please don't expect me to reply right away. But basically within a week or two, things should settle down and get back to "normal." ;) ]


	185. Deities, Deities, and More Deities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe goes to check on Sam's memory palace, and chats with Lucifer and Michael, who are playing cards. Light makes an appearance... elsewhere. Chuck discovers he's missing ten years of his life. Delilah dreams, and rolls over in her sleep, causing an earthquake. Malachai, feeling the quake, realizes Delilah will soon awaken, and shows Rowena his true form, which causes her to pass out.

Gabriel waited until Sam was finally fast asleep to get up and put his t-shirt and boxers back on. Even with the blankets and their body heat, the Bunker’s bedrooms were still a colder temperature than Gabe could feel comfortable sleeping in without something on - not that he slept much, but he did sleep, and intended to do so tonight. Sam was a furnace, but even so….

_Brrr…. These rooms are so damn cold. Must be due to all the metal in the walls._

Gabriel shivered a little, and hurried to get back in bed and under the covers. Sam stirred in his sleep, and Gabe held his breath for a moment, until Sam relaxed and slid back under, into the depths of his dreams.

 _Probably should just check on those, too…_.

Gabe gently laid his fingertips on Sam’s forehead, and popped up in Sam’s memory palace, fully dressed. He walked quietly but quickly down the halls, looking for anomalies, but seeing nothing concerning. He got to the point where the Cage area was, and turned down into it. He found Michael and Lucifer playing a card game just outside the Cage.

“Hey, Gabe. Want to join us? It’s just gin rummy, penny a point. Luci owes me nearly $5K by now.” Michael grinned.

Gabe laughed. “Sorry, Mike, but no. I’m just taking a look around, making sure all is well with Sam for the night.”

Lucifer smiled softly. “We’re keeping an eye out, Gabe. As I told you we would.”

“I appreciate it, Luce. Truly. But sometimes, I just need to check for myself, y’know?”

They both nodded their understanding. 

“So, Gabe, have you heard anything yet from Amara? I thought she was supposed to be getting us out of Sam’s head. Not that I’m dying to get back to the Cage in Hell, but I’m sure you’d rather have us out of here.” Lucifer glanced up at Gabe, then went back to studying the cards in his hand.

“No, haven’t been able to reach her.” Gabe frowned. “She said she’d have you both out of here before I got back. That didn’t happen, but it would have, because I wouldn’t have been able to get into the Bunker, had Cas and Billie not made their little trip to the Empty, and come back with the other you, Luce. Which makes me wonder if Amara wasn’t the entity behind the extra warding placed on the Bunker.”

Lucifer nodded. “Makes sense. Although I’m not sure what she gains by leaving us here. Or by telling you that she’d move us, and then not doing so.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either, and that’s what worries me.” Gabe ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the back of Michael’s chair. He pointed to a card in Michael’s hand, and Michael grunted softly, then moved the card.

“Hey! Stop helping him! I’m the one down $5K, here!” Lucifer protested, weakly. Gabe laughed. 

“All right. I’m headed out, then, since you guys are on duty, here. And thank you.”

“No problem, Gabe,” Michael assured him, smiling. “G’night.”

***

Light expanded himself to fill the cosmos of the alternate empty universe in which he currently existed, stretching and enjoying the feeling of being free of the confines of the vessel he’d inhabited for the past few years. He’d have to go back soon, lest Chuck resurface and cause problems, but for the moment, it felt glorious to be free and whole. He couldn’t fit all of himself into Chuck’s body, no matter how hard he tried; he’d had to leave the majority of his true self here, and he ached from the separation. 

_It was worth the risk, though. Even when I had to pretend that I was so much weaker than Amara. Now she underestimates me, and that puts me at an advantage, so long as she doesn’t figure it out. I wonder if she realizes she’s not all there, too?_

Light stretched again, working out the kinks that had resulted from part of himself being packed into too small a space, while the rest of him had been in an entirely different universe.

_I really have to make an effort to come here more often. I can’t let it go so long between times, if it’s going to be this awkward to rejoin the two parts of myself._

Light shook himself gently all over, like a giant cat that had gotten wet, then carefully re-separated himself in preparation for returning to Chuck’s vessel.

_But first, I should check on the remainder of Darkness, in the trap. See how much of her is still in it; I know there’s a good bit, has to be; there’s no way that all of her would ever have fit into the body of a baby, even at the accelerated pace at which the child grew up into an adult that resembled Darkness’ original form. I need to check, too, on whether she was actually able to take all of her powers out with her, or whether some of them were left behind, and whether, if some were left back, I can absorb them now._

Had Light had a corporeal form at that moment, it would have been smiling.

***

Kathy was freaking out, frankly. She had no idea what had happened to Chuck, why he was saying such odd things, blanking out, apparently having lost his memory, and now having passed out completely. She got her first aid kit out, and found the smelling salts; she opened the vial and waved it under Chuck’s nose.

Chuck sputtered a little as he came to, repulsed by the odor invading his nasal passages. “Ugh.” 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Kathy sighed. She helped him sit up. “Chuck? What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“The last thing I remember? I was at a _Supernatural_ fan convention, and Sam and Dean were there, and it was a good thing, because the hotel the convention was being held in was legit haunted. The ghosts were taken care of, and the Winchesters left, and there was this girl, Becky, who was a fan, and she and I hit it off. She and I went out on a date, and at one point, she had to use the restroom. While she was gone, I was just sitting at our table, and suddenly, there was a bright light. After that... nothing concrete. Just… flashes, images, sounds; a sense of time passing, but not how much.”

“Okay. What year was that fan convention?” Kathy asked, gently.

“Um, it was… November of 2009. Why? What year is it now?” Chuck looked a bit alarmed.

“Today’s date is Monday, November 18, 2019, Chuck,” Kathy told him.

“What!? No, that’s… that’s not possible. That can’t be.”

Kathy got up and got the newspaper from the kitchen counter, bringing it over to show Chuck the date.

Chuck leaned weakly back against the couch cushions. “I… I don’t understand. How can I be missing _ten years_?”

***

She slept, as she had slept for aeons; deeply, yet not peacefully, her slumber marred by violent dreams of a world exploding, being hurtled through space and time, body fractured into tiny pieces, reduced to the basic proteins and elements of the primordial ooze in which she came to land, yet, of course, utterly unable to die. She longed for death, had for millennia, wanted it so badly she could taste it, but knew now that she could never achieve it. If the explosion hadn’t managed it, nothing would. 

She knew, even in her dreams, that _he_ wouldn’t want her thinking that way, but she was so tired. Tired of loss. Tired of pain. Tired of living, being immortal, never changing, never…. 

Delilah murmured in her sleep, and rolled over, and the earth quaked around her.

***

_Ah, my love will awaken soon._

Malachai smiled softly.

Rowena saw it, and shivered.

“No worries, Queen of Hell. I’m actually in quite a good mood today, and disposed to being generous.”

“Is that so, my Lord? Might I inquire as to the reason behind your Excellency’s disposition?” Rowena asked, politely.

“Did you not feel the Earth stirring, just then?”

“Aye, I did; and why does an earthquake put you in a good mood, if I might be so bold?”

“Because it means that my love is waking up. In the beginning, she and I ruled the cosmos, but eventually, we came to this tiny, insignificant planet to be together. We ruled in this realm, together, for a very long time, long before Lucifer was cast down from Heaven. She lies, sleeping, at the very bottom of the Pit, now. And soon, she will wake, and rise, and we will be together, again.”

“May I know her name, so that I might greet her appropriately?” Rowena inquired.

“Delilah. And when she wakes, I should be in my true form.” At that, the shadowy figure in the corner of the throne room shimmered, and changed, and became a black, vaguely man-shaped form, dripping with primordial ooze from pockets all over what passed for its skin. Two less-dark orbs glittered for its eyes, and then, as Rowena watched in horror, a less-dark strip of a mouth formed a terrible _smile_ across what passed for a face. It raised a hand, and gave Rowena a cheery wave, drops of the black slime dripping from its fingers - just before she slumped, unconscious in shock, against the back of the throne of Hell.

_Malachai’s True Form_

Malachai laughed, and the rumble of his true voice caused another quake to begin. “Poor little Queen of Hell.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Light's been keeping some secrets, there. Hmmm.... ;D  
> Delilah can't die, but wants to. How sad.  
> Malachai continues to terrorize poor Rowena. :(
> 
> More art! The drawing of Malachai is loosely based on the Cosmic Entity from the show that appears to Jack, but not quite as friendly, and more...icky. In the show, you see the Entity forming from the blackness of the Empty's floor; imagine that the floor takes that shape, but never stops dripping with the material from which it's made. In trying to look friendly, it just seems more horrid. Got that in your mind? That's Malachai. ;) Hope the picture conveys at least some of that! ;)
> 
> Okay, this is the last thing that I'll post before surgery. Probably won't be anything further until at least the middle of next week, including not responding to comments, as I probably will not be up to sitting at the computer (although I might check them on my phone... will have to see how that works). I hope you all have a great week without me. Please comment anyway! And about the STORY, not my health! lol 
> 
> Love y'all. :D See you in a few days! -A.


	186. Origin Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explains where Delilah and Malachai came from, and how Light and Darkness came to be.

Way back when, before the dawn of time in human estimation, before the beginning of our universe, before Light and Darkness were born, there was a world inhabited by a race of immortal beings. They were small in number, creative and brilliant, and, so far as their scientists could tell, alone. They had never found any trace of any other beings, anywhere. They had searched for other worlds, but not to colonize; they were small enough in number to comfortably inhibit their own planet, and had no need of other worlds’ resources. No, they simply wanted to reach out, in case there were other races that could benefit from trade, in goods and knowledge, or from whom they could similarly benefit themselves. But they had never found anyone out there, anywhere in the vast darkness beyond. Eventually, they stopped looking outward, and simply stayed home.

Home was a beautiful place. No one knew how it had originally come into being, and no one ever bothered to theorize about it, much. It simply was, and that was enough.

No one knew how long their race had been living at home, nor how they had originally come into being, either. They simply were, and  _ that _ was enough, too.

Among their number was a gifted scientist. Her name was Delilah, and she had questions for which she could find no answers. While questions were not forbidden, asking about the origins of home and their race was… discouraged, gently. Over time, Delilah grew discontented with the lack of knowledge, and of the rest of her race’s disinterest. She wanted to know, and being told, gently and repeatedly, that no one else cared, and she had no need to know, frustrated her greatly.

Delilah loved her mate, Malachai, but she saw him for what he was - manipulative and slightly narcissistic. She loved her children, too. Her darling boy, Michael, and her sweet girl, Gabriella, were her world. 

In researching the origins of their race, Delilah tested everything that she could think of or put her hands on - including herself, her mate, and her children. And it was testing her children that led to her undoing, for in so doing, she realized that the genetic markers for immortality, present in herself and Malachai, were absent in Michael and Gabriella. Her children would die, and she could not save them, and she would have to go on without them, in perpetuity. She could not bear the thought. And so began Delilah’s search for a way to die.

She started looking for anomalies, and gradually found records she wasn’t supposed to know existed. Records of deaths. Records of others of their race who lacked the same genetic markers as her own children. Records of their executions, as the elders “put them out of their misery” and covered it up. She traveled outside their home city, also discouraged, and found traces of mass graves. And so Delilah learned the truth - it wasn’t that they were a race of immortal beings, it was rather that a very few of them had the genetic markers for immortality, and the rest were put to death. She couldn’t explain her research or disclose her findings without exposing her own darling beloved children, and risking their extermination. So Delilah turned, instead, to terrorism, seeking to find a way to end the bitter rule of the elders, who were killing droves of innocent people whose only crime was the lack of a particular protein sequence in their DNA.

Her efforts started small, but she soon realized that the elders were dispersed, not only throughout their home city, but throughout their world; the only way to get all of them would be to destroy the world, and everyone in it. And in her grief and her, by then, zealotry, that seemed reasonable to her. 

Telling no one, not even Malachai, she assembled a weapon in her lab, to which no one else had access. She believed it would be destructive enough to end their world, and their race. When it was ready, she brought Malachai and the children to the building in which her lab was located, and, in an antechamber with a window into the room where the weapon was waiting, she told them what she had done, what she had learned, and what she was about to do about it.

Malachai protested, until she told them that the warrants had been signed for Michael and Gabriella’s executions. That, in fact, the elders’ “representatives” were on their way already to take Michael and Gabriella to their deaths. And, she also told him that she was pregnant, again, and had no way to know, as it was too early to do a test, if the child or children she was carrying would have or lack the genetic markers themselves. 

“I could not bear to carry even one more child and learn that it, too, was not immortal, destined to die, destined to be taken from me and executed by cruel rulers who will not tell the others of our race the truth, Malachai. I cannot do it. I will not. I must destroy the elders, and the system they have built, which favors certain people over others for something no one can help. I must, and you must help me. For the sake of our children, those born, those I carry now, and those that I might bear in the future, you  _ must  _ help me, Malachai.” 

He could see that she was determined. He knew that she would do it, with or without him. And he knew he could not passively give his children to the representatives that would take them away to kill them. Narcissist he might well be, but not to such an extent that he did not love his mate, and his children. And so, in his own grief, he agreed to her plan.

He kept Michael and Gabriella occupied and happy while Delilah set the timer on the weapon, and then they both drew the children close, kissed them, and, as the timer wound down, kissed each other for what they thought then would be the final time.

The weapon went off. The world was destroyed, and Delilah and Malachai were blown out into space, into mere fragments of their former selves, little more than proteins that mixed with the primordial ooze. But the immortality markers in those proteins would not let them die, and while it took long, long aeons, eventually the minerals and proteins in the ooze reformed into a basic form that resembled their former selves, and their identities, their consciousness, came back “online,” as it were. Delilah remembered, and grieved again, sobbing over the deaths of her precious babies… until she found that not all of her children had died. 

Michael and Gabriella, of course, were gone. But the children - twins - that had been in Delilah’s womb, it turned out, had the genetic marker for immortality, after all. And those children, no less than Delilah and Malachai, could not die. The explosion had fragmented them, but they, too, had eventually reformed.

Malachai and Delilah realized, of course, that if they had reformed, found each other and their infant children, then it was probable, even likely, that the elders had reformed, as well. That it was probable, even likely, that the rest of their race would be looking for them, seeking retribution. 

They discovered that their race had never needed the space travelling ships they had used to explore; they could move across the vast darkness of space at will, with a thought. And so they did, moving even farther away from that corner of space where their home world had once been. They kept moving, always further away, for a very long time, until Delilah insisted, finally, that they stop. Their children, a boy and a girl that they named Lucifer and Raphaella, needed structure and lessons and a home. 

Malachai searched for, and found, a small world that they could use as a base. Delilah worked to set up a new home for them and the children, while Malachai made small day trips out and back, trying to find something better, while still avoiding others of their race that might be on their trail.

Lucifer and Raphaella, being twins, were very close; they could almost read each other’s mind, always knowing what the other was thinking, even finishing each other’s sentences. They had their own “secret” language, which they only used when alone together, never when their parents were around. And in that language, they told each other that they loved each other, and would always be together.

Delilah tried to keep busy with the new home, and the new children, but she still grieved terribly for Michael and Gabriella. She had wanted to die with her children, and instead, as she saw it, had only managed to kill them herself. She still longed for death, but felt a responsibility to Lucifer and Raphaella. Yet, she left the children alone for long periods of time, not even realizing it, in her grief. With their father seemingly always gone, and their mother sobbing in her bed most days, the children, left to their own devices, and with no other playmates, explored their world - and each other. And eventually, they matured, and grew, and, as young adults, their explorations of each other led, inevitably, to sex.

One day (when she was about our human equivalent of 18 years old), Raphaella came to Delilah, and told her that she had not felt quite right for a few weeks, that she had feelings that were new, that she could not explain, and as she told her mother about her new feelings, Delilah realized that Raphaella was describing pregnancy. Of course, she knew that Lucifer was the only possible father for Raphaella’s children. But she, the scientist, put her emotions away and examined her daughter, and realized that Raphaella was carrying twins. 

Delilah sat Lucifer and Raphaella down, and explained that they were about to become parents to two children. She promised to help them with the babies, but Lucifer told Raphaella in their secret language that it was unlikely that their mother would be much help; she was too fragile, and still grieving over all she had lost, and that same grief that had kept her from paying enough attention to them would likely keep her also from helping much with raising her grandchildren. Raphaella agreed, secretly, that, while they could learn some things about child care from Delilah, and therefore should not shut her out, they also could not depend upon her for anything substantial. For that, they were likely on their own.

Raphaella gave birth to a boy and a girl, which in the old language were named Mark and Mary, but in their secret language, were simply called Light and Darkness. Light was a boy of sunny disposition, who never cried, who built things with blocks, and clapped his hands happily. Darkness was a girl, who had tantrums, cried often, and who, when Light built something, would angrily knock it down. Light and Darkness were always in conflict, and Raphaella and Lucifer tried to keep them apart as a result.

One day, while away from home on a trip to find something that Raphaella wanted, Lucifer disappeared, never to be seen again. Malachai and Delilah realized it was probable that another of their race had found him, and taken him to the elders. Malachai, Delilah, and Raphaella packed up their things and the twins, and made another jump, further away from the original home planet, into a far, far corner of the darkness. They set up a new home base there, and Raphaella watched her children grow.

But Raphaella missed her twin fiercely, and was not content to stay at home without him. So, once the twins were able to look after themselves, Raphaella went back to their old home base and set out to find Lucifer. She never found him, so far as the twins ever found out, and eventually, she, too, disappeared, never to return.

Light and Darkness still were in conflict, often, but on a few things they had an understanding. They agreed never to speak of their missing parents. They agreed that they would not let their grief rule their lives, as Delilah’s had ruled hers. And they would not make the mistake, as they saw it, that their parents had made, and have children with each other, or fall in love with each other. They would simply be brother and sister, never lovers, and they thought that was for the best for both of them, by far.

But Light had a talent for creation, and he couldn’t resist creating new beings. Without telling Darkness, for he knew she’d only want to tear down whatever he had built up, he made a new race that he called “Archangels.” He made four of them, and named them for his aunt and uncle who had died before his birth, and his parents. When Darkness learned of that, she considered it a betrayal of their pact never to speak of their parents, and was furious with Light. He realized at once that if he didn’t take steps to stop her, Darkness would try to kill his Archangels, which he loved like his own children. He knew he couldn’t kill her, but he could lock her away. Except that she was as powerful as he; so he enlisted the help of his Archangels, without really telling them what he planned to do. He wasn’t sure they’d understand that he was doing it to protect them.

*** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, basically, Light and Darkness were the product of incest because Delilah was too busy grieving for her dead children to realize what her live children were getting up to. Hmm.
> 
> No art for this one, sorry. :)
> 
> Please comment! 
> 
> [Good news - it is NOT, after all, cancer, according to the biopsy results! We're not sure what it actually IS, but it isn't *cancer*, so that's good. I hurt, but not as much as anticipated; and I have good drugs - although they knock me OUT, so I've been sleeping a TON. And, I'm about to go back to bed, just knocked this chapter out in an hour while waiting for the meds to kick in. Not sure when I'll surface again, although I did figure out how to respond to comments from my phone, so there's that! ;) ]


	187. Light, the Father; Chuck, the Prophet; Who's the Holy Ghost?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck has visions and borrows Kathy's laptop to write them down. Kathy calls Cas for help. Cas seeks Gabe's cooperation, and Gabe's amenable but leaves it to Cas to convince Sam and Dean. Sam responds favorably to Cas' logic, and Dean, while not happy about it, tells Cas and Gabe to go and come back ASAP. Lucifer privately makes some observations to Cas with which Cas agrees.

“Um, Kathy. Sorry. I… I don’t want to cause trouble, but… would it be possible to get some paper and a pen, or to maybe use a computer? I think… I’m seeing something, in my head, the way I used to, and I need to get it down.”

Kathy looked up from her phone call to look sharply at Chuck for a moment. “Hold on,” she said, into the phone. She got the laptop from the kitchen where Chuck had left it previously, and set it up on the dining room table, waving him over to it. “Have at it.” 

Chuck went over to the table and seated himself. Kathy had opened the word processing program, so he was able to just start right in with typing, and he did so, occasionally muttering to himself.

He realized that he hadn’t quite told her the truth, but didn’t want to interrupt her call again to correct himself over something so minor. The truth was, this vision was different. It felt like it was older, and from the perspective of an altogether different entity than his old visions. In those, he heard a narrator’s voice - whose voice it _was_ , exactly, was not something he’d ever bothered to wonder about, before - and saw bits and pieces of the action. Now, however, there was no explicit narration, but the visions he saw were rich with color and had new depths of emotion. It was like the difference between watching an old time animated cartoon, broken up, and audio not quite matching the video, on the one hand, and watching a Pixar Studios animated movie, smooth and almost realistic, except for the sharpness in the rendering that would never actually be that perfect in real life, on the other hand. 

In writing the old _Supernatural_ books, Chuck had taken the visions he’d seen and the narration he’d heard, and woven a fictional tale from them that was sometimes lacking in detail, but was recognizably his work. Now, although there was no express spoken story, it was like watching a film, and all he could do was try to find words adequate to describe what he saw, to make the reader see it in their heads, and it didn’t feel like his own writing. It felt like the words to be used came to him, fully formed in sentences and paragraphs, as if he were being dictated to, yet without anyone actually saying anything at all out loud.

“Cas,” Kathy said quietly, having taken her cell phone to the other end of the living room, “Chuck is… different. I came home, he was sitting on the couch, staring into space, unmoving. I shook him and he didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, he didn’t know me. Then he passed out, and I had to use smelling salts to bring him back, and we talked for a few minutes and it seems that he is experiencing memory loss that extends back about ten years, to the last time he saw Sam and Dean at a _Supernatural_ fan convention in 2009. He’s understandably freaking out, and I couldn’t think of anything to do except to try to get in touch with you. And just now, he asked to use either a pen and paper or a computer, because he was having visions and needed to write about them.”

“Just a moment, please, Kathy. I need to speak to someone very quickly.”

***

Cas had left the room he shared with Dean, and headed quickly for the one that Gabe shared with Sam, as Kathy had been talking. He knocked on their door, and waited for a response.

Gabriel heard the knock, and glanced over to see if Sam was also awake; he wasn’t. Gabe slid out of bed, and went to the door. Opening it, he hissed, quietly, “What is it, Cas? Sam’s sleeping.”

_Gabe and Sam, sleeping_

Cas covered the phone with his hand, and spoke quietly. “Kathy’s on the phone. It appears that _Father_ was only using _Chuck Shurley’s_ _body_ as a vessel, and has, at least for now, left for parts unknown. _Chuck_ has no memory of the past ten years, apparently. Chuck and Kathy could be in danger. I want the two of us to go and get them, and bring them here."

“Here? Is that wise, given… recent events? Sam still hasn’t healed, you know, despite your best efforts and my own,” Gabe pointed out.

“I know, but Kathy and Chuck are both freaking out a bit. If it really is _Chuck Shurley_ , the prophet, and _Father_ has left him behind, he’s never done anything harmful, and used to be somewhat useful. Leaving either of them to their own devices isn’t fair to them. Plus, we were going to be having them here this weekend, anyway; we’re just moving up the meeting. Put like that, even Sam will see the logic, don’t you think?”

Gabe shrugged, but nodded, reluctantly. “I’ll wake him. We’ll meet you and Dean-o in the War Room in five. I'll leave it to you to convince them.”

Cas nodded, and went back to talking to Kathy, as he returned to Dean.

***

Cas covered the phone with his hand, and spoke to someone briefly. Kathy couldn’t tell who Cas was speaking with, nor could she hear what was being said, but it was clearly a conversation. Then Cas came back to the call. “Kathy, do you have to work the rest of this week? Is there any chance that you could take off, call in sick, switch shifts with someone?”

“No, I don’t have to work. The park is closed for the season, but I own the cabin, so I can choose whether or not I want to stay year-round. Chuck and I had been planning… a trip, but we were going to wait until after the meeting this coming weekend. I’m gathering you might want to move that meeting up, am I right?”

“Yes, I’m thinking it would be best if you and Chuck were here, sooner rather than later. As I told you when I was there, the Bunker is an extraordinary place, warded from most creatures and beings that might intend harm. We might not be able to keep you safe from _everything_ , but very little would want to challenge Sam and Dean on their home ground, here.”

“Do you want to give me directions? How long of a drive is it?” Kathy asked.

“No worries. We’ll come for you. And we’ll fly. We’ll be there in a little while, and we’ll fly you back with us,” Cas told her, somewhat absently, as he considered logistics.

“Cas, when you say ‘fly’ you don’t mean ‘in a plane,’ do you? This is what you were talking about, using your wings, isn’t it?” Kathy held her breath, though she suspected she already knew what his answer would be.

“Of course.” 

Kathy sighed, quietly. “All right. Well, come when you can, Cas.” She ended the call, and glanced over at Chuck, who was typing efficiently into the laptop, now and then murmuring something to himself. “I guess I’d better pack a bag, quick, then.” She went into the bedroom to do so.

***

Chuck didn’t even look up when she left the room. He was utterly engrossed in the tale spinning itself out in his head. He’d realized that what he was seeing was an entirely different world, inhabited by a different kind of being. 

With a few paragraphs written, he stopped typing to read it back to himself. “Way back when, before the dawn of time in human estimation, before the beginning of our universe….” 

_These are my words, but the concepts are entirely someone else’s. I’m simply putting them into a frame of reference that I can understand, because the ‘someone else’ doesn’t have the vocabulary needed for the task._

Chuck resumed typing, and rode it out. He was exhausted, yet oddly satisfied, when he realized that at least this chapter of the tale was finished. He decided to title the tale “Origin Story” because while it depicted the destruction of a world, it was also the story of how a family from that world got its start in an entirely new landscape. He found the story to be sad and somewhat moving, though he didn’t find himself much in sympathy with the characters. That, he realized, was also new; until he’d met them, and realized that they were actually real people about whom he’d been having visions, not just characters from his own imagination, he’d always felt a rapport, a sense of compatibility, with Sam and Dean, back when he’d been writing about them. 

Chuck looked up, and realized that the woman had left the room. “Kathy?” he called.

Kathy came out of the bedroom, carrying a traveling case and a duffle bag. “I spoke with a friend of mine, Chuck. I think you might know him. He’s going to come get us, and take us to a safer location.”

“ _I_ might know a friend of _yours_? Who?” Chuck seemed baffled.

“Castiel.”

“ _Castiel_? You’re friends with an _angel_? Is that even possible?” 

***

Cas was frustrated. He’d wanted to finish reading Dean’s journal. He hadn’t wanted to have to wake Dean to tell him he’d have to leave for a while. He hadn’t wanted to have to explain why, but he knew he couldn't just go without telling Dean - that would be backsliding.

He _really_ hadn’t wanted to explain things to Sam; he’d known that Sam might react badly to hearing that…

“I'm sorry, Cas; did you just say that you want to go and rescue **_Chuck_ **?” Sam absently rubbed his shoulder, which still ached from the unhealed gun wound.

 _‘Wow, Sam’s explosion was really relatively quiet.’_ Lucifer observed quietly, from within Cas’ head. Privately, Cas agreed.

“Samshine, listen to what Cas is saying. It’s not the Chuck you’ve been fighting with recently, it’s the Chuck from _ten years ago_ , the nerdy little prophet who tried to _help_ you and Dean,” Gabriel pointed out.

“ _If he’s telling the truth_ . Since when do we trust _Chuck_?” Sam asked.

“I don’t. But I do trust _Kathy_ , Sam. Look, they were going to be coming here this weekend anyway. We’re just moving that up, and going to get them, rather than having them drive all the way here from Wyoming.” Cas hoped taking the logical tack would work; reason usually did, with Sam….

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I guess you’re right. What’s a few days? Fine.” Sam acquiesced.

‘ _Well, that was easier than I had expected.’_ Lucifer noted.

 _‘Agreed.’_ Cas said, internally. Outwardly, Cas simply said, “Thank you, Sam.”

Dean had been leaning back against the Map Table, ankles crossed, arms folded against his chest, listening, but not contributing to the discussion at all, looking vaguely irritated. Now, he pushed forward, away from the table, and stood tall, hands on his hips. “So, you and Gabe will go, and bring Kathy and Chuck back here. Right now, Cas?”

Cas nodded.

“Make it quick, then. I want you back here as soon as possible.” Dean crossed to his angel, kissed him on the forehead, and left the War Room, headed in the direction of the bedrooms.

Cas sighed. Gabe nodded at Cas, and drew Sam into the kitchen for a word.

 _‘Do you need to speak to him again?’_ Lucifer asked.

 _‘No. I didn’t just rush off and do something without letting him know, this isn’t just my judgment leading me to do something; we’ve discussed it. He’s not happy about it, but he’s okay. Dean understands. We’ll be fine.’_ Cas knew that he’d said it as much to reassure himself as to answer Lucifer’s question.

_Castiel, with Lucifer_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I explained this in response to a comment, but just in case:
> 
> *Chuck* is a human being and a prophet. He's the person we initially met in S4E18 ("The Monster At The End Of This Book"), when the boys came to find the "Carver Edlund" who was writing books about their lives. He had God's voice/visions in his head, but (in this story, at least) he was NOT God (there are a lot of websites about the show that say that Chuck was *always* God, but I don't buy it - too many plot holes).
> 
> *Light* IS a deity [God]. Light's been using Chuck as a vessel for quite a while now (since the S5 finale episode). He also stole Chuck's identity, and never allowed Chuck to be in control once Light took over the vessel. Other deities can tell the difference. Hence, Tiamat and Marduk calling him "Light".
> 
> In contrast, when Cas took over Jimmy's body, he never pretended to actually BE Jimmy. Similarly, Michael took over Dean's body, but didn't pretend to BE Dean; it was always clear that Michael WAS Michael. But Light took over Chuck's body, but pretended that he was Chuck, or rather, pretended that Chuck had been Light all along. You're confused because Light purposefully made it confusing - he's been telling people that he just prefers to be called Chuck, and he took on some of Chuck's personality traits to "sell" it. Similarly, when Lucifer took over President Rooney, he pretended to BE the President (kinda had to, to make it work - the Secret Service wasn't going to protect Satan). Also, when Lucifer initially took over Sam, in Detroit, he pretended to be Sam for a minute, to toy with Dean.
> 
> So, in case it still isn't clear, Light has now, at least temporarily, abandoned Chuck's body, and Chuck has come swimming up to the surface for the first time in a very long time. Kathy didn't immediately realize that the Chuck she's meeting now is not the entity she's been dealing with up until now, but she's starting to get it, now. Cas got it immediately.
> 
> Also, if it wasn't clear, the vision that Chuck is having in this chapter, and what he's writing down, is the Origin Story of the last chapter. Obviously, all of his previous visions came from Light, but since Light isn't born for most of Origin Story, the source of this vision, as Chuck could feel, is different - it's Delilah, whose dreams, as she also "swims to the surface," are leaking a bit around the edges and sliding into Chuck's consciousness. If he was still "under" and Light was in control, Chuck might have experienced the visions as simply a dream, but since he's awake for the first time in a long time, he's experiencing them as a prophet.
> 
> More art! The Sam and Gabe pic is new; the "Casifer" pic is an old one, and again, it doesn't *really* apply, since Lucifer is letting Cas be in control, but I couldn't resist using it. ;)
> 
> Please comment! :D


	188. Translations - From Spanish, and From Body Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann took some work home with him, and now that he's back from Billie's, he's doing it. Dean tries to figure out why he's so irritated, and realizes it's not irritation, it's concern. Gabe and Sam have a word in the kitchen, then Gabe and Cas leave for Wyoming. Dean and Sam chat.

Shann had taken his work home with him, determined to beat the deadline he’d set for himself of the end of this week to have the two texts both translated and compared to one another. Tonight’s movie with Billie aside, he really wanted to get at least the basic translation done tonight. 

He was translating the last chapter in the text he’d brought back from the alternate universe. He finished that, but then realized that there was an extra epilogue at the end of it, which wasn’t present in the book from his own universe. In the epilogue, the author stated that he’d never considered himself a fanciful person, and that the rest of what was in the book had been cobbled together from the author’s translations of older works that he’d found throughout the years of his career, but the epilogue was his own _original_ writing, based on an odd dream that he’d had repeatedly over the course of his life - always the same dream, over and over, almost as if he were reliving someone else’s memories - or having someone else dictate a story _about_ their memories to him, except without words. He’d never been able to get the dream out of his head, until he wrote it all down - at which point, he’d stopped having the dream altogether. He’d included it here, the epilogue said, because although it came from a dream, it seemed to feature some of the characters of the myths and legends he’d spent his life translating.

Shann took note of the author's name for the first time - Félix José Gabriel de Unamuno y Jugo - and realized the name was familiar. 

_Oh, right, older brother of Miguel de Unamuno y Jugo, the famous Spanish philosopher and author. I didn't realize that Félix had ever written anything._

Shann was fascinated, and started scribbling notes to himself as he translated the author’s words.

  * **_Al principio, antes del amanecer de nuestro universo, antes de que nacieran la Luz y la Oscuridad, había un mundo con una raza de seres inmortales. Eran pequeños en número, creativos e ingeniosos, y, por lo que su ciencia podía decir, solos. Nunca encontraron otros seres, en ninguna parte, a pesar de la búsqueda organizada en otros mundos; no colonizar, porque no necesitaban recursos. No, solo querían tratar de comerciar con otros seres que podrían beneficiarse de dicho comercio, bienes y conocimiento, o de aquellos que podrían proporcionarles beneficios similares, pero nunca habían visto a nadie fuera de ellos. Como resultado, dejaron de buscar y simplemente se quedaron en casa._**
  * _**In the beginning, before the dawn of our universe, before Light and Darkness were born, there was a world with a race of immortal beings. They were small in number, creative and resourceful, and, as far as their science could tell, alone. They never found any other beings, anywhere, despite organized searching on other worlds; not to colonize, for they did not need resources. No, they just wanted to seek to trade with other beings that could benefit from such trade, goods and knowledge, or from those who could provide similar benefits to them, but they had never seen anyone outside of themselves. As a result, they ceased to search, and simply remained at home.**_



_Oh, hey, more about before the birth of Light and Darkness. Another world, a whole race of immortal beings, seeking to trade with other beings? Hmmm. That’s new._

  * **_El hogar era un lugar hermoso. Nadie sabía cómo se había creado por primera vez, y a nadie le preocupaba demasiado. Estaba justo allí, y eso fue suficiente. Nadie sabía cómo o cuándo se había creado su raza, y tampoco a nadie le preocupaba mucho eso. Ellos también simplemente lo eran, y eso también era suficiente._**
  * _**Home was a beautiful place. No one knew how it had first been created, and no one worried about it much. It was just there, and that was sufficient. No one knew how or when their race had been created, and no one worried about that, much, either. They, too, simply were, and that was sufficient, as well.**_



_Kind of incurious beings, it seems. Don’t care about how they or their world came to be. Seems a bit odd. Most entities with the level of intelligence that these beings seemed to have had wonder about their own origins. Certainly humans do, hence all the mythology. I_ **_really_ ** _wish I could write a paper that I could publish about all of this!_

  * **_Entre su número había un científico talentoso. Se llamaba Delilah y tenía preguntas para las que no podía encontrar respuestas. Si bien las preguntas no estaban prohibidas, preguntar sobre los orígenes del hogar y su raza estaba ... desanimado, suavemente. Con el tiempo, Delilah se sintió descontenta con la falta de conocimiento y el desinterés del resto de su raza. Quería saber, y le dijeron, gentil y repetidamente, que a nadie más le importaba, y que no tenía necesidad de saber, la frustraba enormemente._**
  * _**Among their number was a talented scientist. Her name was Delilah and she had questions to which she could find no answers. While the questions were not prohibited, asking about the origins of Home and their race was ... discouraged, gently. Over time, Delilah became unhappy with the lack of knowledge, and the disinterest of the rest of her people. She wanted to know, but was told, gently and repeatedly, that no one else cared, and that she had no need to know. This frustrated her greatly.**_



_Oh, hey, Delilah’s mentioned._ Shann scanned ahead to see if Malachai was named as well. _He is. Man, I wish Gabe or Lucifer were around to talk to about this! Almost wish I’d stayed at the Bunker overnight. Speaking of which, it’s getting late; what time is it, I wonder?_

The clocks still weren’t working, of course. Shann and Sam had agreed that there was no need for Shann to try to arrive at the Bunker at any particular time, since no one could tell what time it was at any given point just now. Sam had told Shann that he’d already proved that he was a self-starter with a great work ethic, and that he clearly didn’t need anyone to supervise him to make sure he was earning his pay. In fact, Sam said that he suspected that, even given the raise and the bonus and the special vacation package thank-you, Shann wasn’t getting paid enough. Shann had blushed and stuttered out something that was meant to be thanks, but he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d actually said, he was so floored by the compliment. And it wasn’t like Sam was gushing, or acting at all insincere - he was just being Sam, forthright, honest, and kind, so Shann knew that everything that Sam was saying was exactly what he meant to say and exactly what he felt, no less and no more. And that made it worth so much more than any other raise, bonus, or compliment that he’d ever received from anyone, ever, that Shann wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, other than continue to work.

Shann yawned widely.

_Dammit. I really wanted to finish this tonight._

He knew that he could keep going, but if he did, he’d be hard pressed to get up in the morning. 

_Dean said he and Gabe are making another “buffet” tomorrow for Jack’s homecoming. I want to be able to feel like I earned my lunch. So, go to bed now, get up as early as possible and get to the Bunker, and get this done._

He yawned again. He rubbed his eyes quickly, and marked his place, then put the book in his work bag so he wouldn’t forget it in his rush in the morning. He pondered having a quick snack, but decided he really wasn’t at all hungry, after Claire’s pizzafest. So, he just went to the bedroom, cautiously looked through the door to be sure it actually _was_ his bedroom, then stepped carefully across the threshold, and sighed in relief as his bed stayed put. He crossed to it,sat on the edge, toed off his shoes and socks, pulled off his jeans and his shirt to toss in a pile on the floor, and carelessly slid into bed in just his boxers. He was just thinking he should write himself a note, when he closed his eyes, and slid just as easily into sleep.

***

Dean seated himself at his desk, and drummed his fingers on its surface. He knew he had no reason to be, but he was still irritated. 

_Cas did everything right, here. He didn’t just hare off on his own to Wyoming as soon as Kathy called. He talked to Gabe, he talked to me, he talked to Sam, he made a reasonable plan, he got consensus, he’s not going alone, Gabe’s going with him. They’ll be fine, and they’ll be right back. Everything is_ **_fine_ ** _, dammit, so why am I so pissed off?_

He got up and started to pace back and forth between the desk and the bed. There really wasn’t enough room for a good pacing session, but he didn’t want to go out in the hall. Sam had been in the kitchen with Gabe, but he would probably head back to his room, and Dean didn’t want to chat and have Sam ask about his feelings and his mood and how things were with Cas, and… and… and then he realized. Sam hadn't been upset about Chuck and Kathy coming to the Bunker, he'd been upset about Gabe _leaving_ the Bunker, even temporarily, without him - again.

 _Shit_ . _I’m such an asshole._

 _Dean_

Dean went to find Sam.

***

Sam spoke with Gabriel briefly in the kitchen, hugging the Archangel. He watched Gabe go out into the War Room, step over to Castiel, and say something that made Cas laugh, his whole face lightening briefly from the concern he’d obviously had for his friend in Wyoming. Gabe turned back toward the kitchen, smiled at Sam, and waved jauntily, as he and Cas vanished. Sam huffed out a short laugh... then turned to the sink, braced his hands on the edge of it, hung his head, and let out a shuddering, slow, deep breath.

“You all right, Sammy?” 

He tried to put on a good face as he turned to his brother, but it didn’t work. Dean stepped up and gathered him into a hug.

“Hey, Sammy, c’mon, it’ll be okay, they’ll be right back. Like Gabe said, it’s not God, okay? It’s just nerdy little prophet Chuck.” 

Sam nodded, and straightened up, making an effort. “Yeah. I know. It’ll be fine, you’re right, Dean.”

“You want some coffee? I can put on a fresh pot,” Dean offered.

Sam shook his head. “Not unless you want some, but thanks.” 

“We’ve been busy, lately. Haven’t really talked much. You and Gabe good?” Dean sat down at the kitchen table, knowing Sam would join him.

Sam shuffled over after a few seconds and pulled out a chair. “Yeah. We’re good. We’re really good. Yeah.”

“Yeah, that sounded convincing, Sammy. ‘Sup?”

“No, really. We are. It’s just… there’s a lot going on, there’s a lot in my head, even aside from the two Archangels residing in my brain. Gabe’s amazing, he’s so good, Dean, but I’m just….”

“Feeling inadequate?”

Sam nodded, miserably. “How did you get past it with Cas?”

“Who says I did?” Dean laughed. “Oh, Christ, Sam, I am so _not_ past the notion that I’m _not and never will be_ good enough for Cas. Dude’s the angel in charge of Heaven. I’ve literally been in Hell, and deserved to be there. I dunno what he’s doing with me, Sam. But what I decided, see, was this. He says he loves me. I don’t know why he loves me, but I believe that he does. And I’m not going to throw that gift back in his face. I love him, too; probably always have, though I couldn’t admit it. So, I may not be worthy of his love, but I will not let that stop me from _trying to be_. And in the end, Sam, isn’t that really all anyone can do? Try?”

Sam took a second to really look at Dean, for the first time in what seemed a long time. “You’ve really changed, Dean. Seriously, man, that’s… I think that’s the _healthiest_ thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Dean grinned. He grabbed an apple out of the basket on the table, and took a bite. Sam’s eyes widened. “Yeah, Sammy, I’m eating fruit that isn’t baked in a pie. Don’t have a heart attack.”

“I made an appointment with Mia.”

“Yeah? Good. She’s really helped me a lot. It’s funny, though, she’d probably say that I do all the work. But she made it possible. Journaling really helped, and I never would have done that, if not for her. Oh, by the way - she’s read the books.”

“The _Supernatural_ books? Really?” Sam laughed.

“Yeah. She didn’t tell me until last week. I asked her why she asks me for details of stories she already knows, and she said it’s because Chuck didn’t know the stories from our perspective, and he missed a lot of the details, so she enjoys the books, but although she knows they’re about our lives, she considers them only semi-biographical, and she’d rather hear it from me.”

“Makes sense.”

“When do you go?”

“Thursday morning.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be sure to be around in the afternoon, just in case.”

“Thanks, Dean. Still taking care of your little brother, huh?” Sam smiled.

“Always, kiddo. Always.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Miguel Unamuno and Felix Unamuno were real people. Miguel was, indeed, a famous Spanish philosopher and author, and Félix was his older brother, but no one seems to know much else about Félix, so I decided to make Félix the author of our mysterious Spanish text. ;) In reality, he had nothing to do with it. All errors and weirdnesses in Origin Story are entirely mine. ;D Shann's working so hard, and Sam is such a good boss! I want a boss like Sam!! (Oh wait, no, I'm enjoying having no boss at all...never mind!)
> 
> Dean is being really good about thinking through his mood, here. He's giving Cas credit, as he should. He's not just reacting, or acting on his perceived irritation. PROGRESS! And then he realizes - it's not about Cas, at all. He's worried about *Sam*. Gabe is leaving, taking a risk that is perhaps unnecessary, and while Sam is being cool about it, in the presence of others, he's really not all right. Dean gets it, and goes to take care of his brother, just as he always has. :D
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Please comment, if you've actually read the story (see comments on the previous chapter, and you'll get why I say that... grrr). 
> 
> So, anything you want to see? Here's what's Coming Soon:  
> \- Jack's coming home, and Dean's got to write a letter to future Dean before his session with Mia tomorrow afternoon (tomorrow in the story, i.e., 11/19/19, not *our* tomorrow of 7/31/20);  
> \- we've got Donna's hearing coming up at about the same time as Sam's first appointment with Mia coming up on Thursday morning (again, in the story);  
> \- Shann's trying to finish up the translation (which sounds a lot like the bit that Chuck was writing.... hmmm)  
> \- Delilah's waking up and Malachai's waiting for her;  
> \- Rowena's scared spitless and someone really ought to go and try to help her out - probably one of the Lucifers(?);  
> \- Light and Darkness are still out there, roaming around, and hey, their parents went missing and apparently also can't actually die, so maybe they're around somewhere, too;  
> \- the mysterious "elders" might be around somewhere;  
> \- in case you hadn't caught this, Tiamat and Marduk aren't brothers (they're lovers), but they're both cousins of Light and Darkness - Delilah's first two children, Michael and Gabriella, died in the explosion and had no kids, and Lucifer and Raphaella disappeared after L&D were born, so Delilah and Malachai must've had more kids - so those kids might still be around somewhere;  
> \- Inias still has Heaven closed off, until Cas needs the angels' help fighting Light;  
> \- Jody's got some time, but at some point decisions need to be made about Amy's schooling, and the possibility/risks of "growing" her; and  
> \- Dean and Cas are, at some point, going to get married, and before then, we need to get one Lucifer out of Cas, and the other Lucifer and Michael out of Sam's head, plus...  
> \- We still need to find out what the deal is with that light in Dean's soul!
> 
> So, lots going on! Yes, I have a plan, but the story is NOT written out; as I've said, I post the chapters as I finish them. I like getting your input, so let me know what you like and what you'd like to see, and I'll see what I can do! 
> 
> Love y'all! :D


	189. Vessel Shell Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Gabe return to the Bunker with Chuck and Kathy. Gabe and Sam show Chuck and Kathy to their rooms. Dean apologizes to Cas. Cas puts Dean back to bed, then resumes reading Dean's journal. Cas and Lucifer chat.

Dean had just finished his apple and tossed the core in the wastebasket, when he and Sam heard the tell-tale soft whooshing noise of angels’ wings. The brothers rose from the kitchen table, and went out into the War Room, to find Cas, Gabe, Chuck, and a woman they didn’t recognize, but assumed was Cas’ friend, Kathy.

Cas looked up, saw them, and confirmed their assumption. “Dean, Sam, come and meet Kathy.”

They did so, ignoring Chuck for a moment to give him some space to catch his breath, as Cas introduced them to the Park Ranger. 

Then, they turned to Chuck. “Um...hey, guys,” he said, weakly. “How’s it goin’?”

Dean put a hand on Sam’s arm, gently holding him back, just in case. “Chuck? Is that Chuck the prophet?” Dean’s brow quirked up as he asked the question.

“Um. Yeah, it’s me.” Chuck gave a little nervous wave, and Dean relaxed. It  _ was  _ him.

Sam wasn’t quite so ready to accept. “What do you remember, Chuck? Do you remember me  _ shooting you _ ?” he asked, challengingly.

Chuck’s eyes grew wide. “Is that where this shoulder wound came from? Man, it  _ hurts _ !”

“It was infected,” Kathy told them. “I cleaned it out a few weeks ago, put some antibiotic ointment on it, bandaged it properly, but …  _ He _ wouldn’t let me do anything else to it, after that. Just told me to leave it alone.”

“Oh, man. I don’t remember  _ any  _ of that.” Chuck sounded a little wistful, but mostly afraid. He stared at the floor. 

Sam stared at him, still not quite ready to accept what his senses were telling him.

Gabriel looked at Sam, and sighed softly. “Samshine, he really doesn’t remember. It isn’t  _ Him _ . It’s the Chuck you knew  _ before.  _ It really is.”

Sam took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and dropped the challenging posture. He nodded. “Okay. Well, it’s late. Let’s get you guys set up in rooms where you can get some sleep, and we’ll reconvene in the morning.”

“Ah, guys? Jack.” Cas reminded them, quietly, of their son’s imminent return.

“Yeah, Cas, I know. We’ll have to make explanations and introductions in the morning. Chuck and Kathy are exhausted, and Sam and Dean were already asleep, and need to get back to it. We’ll sort it out.” Gabe nodded at Cas, and Cas let it go, watching as Sam and Gabriel led Chuck and Kathy away down the hall toward the spare bedrooms. On the way out, Gabe quietly flicked a wall switch down, grinning to himself.

Dean took a deep breath. He looked at Cas, then down at his feet. “I owe you an apology, Angel.”

Cas tilted his head slightly in confusion. “For what, my heart?”

“I was irritated earlier, and took it out on you, a bit. Less than I used to do, maybe, but it was still a dick move,” Dean admitted. “After I told you to go and come back ASAP, and stormed off, earlier, I made myself think about  _ why _ I was so irritated, and realized it wasn’t about you, at all. I wasn’t even  _ irritated  _ at all, really. I was internalizing  _ Sam’s  _ being upset over Gabe going off on a potentially risky journey without him, and taking that out on you because you raised the issue. But you were right to raise it, and I shouldn’t have taken Sam’s being upset about the situation out on you. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry for it, Cas.”

Cas smiled softly, and stepped over within Dean’s personal space.

_ Cas and Dean  _

“Thank you, Dean. For thinking about it, for realizing what you were doing, for stopping yourself from doing it, and for your apology.” He tilted his face up the small amount it took for his lips to be able to reach his fiancé’s cheek - Dean being just slightly taller - and leaned in briefly to deliver a soft kiss. 

Dean smiled. “I’m getting there, Cas. Slowly.”

“Faster than you realize, my heart.” Cas put his arm around Dean, and led him off toward their shared room. 

Neither of them noticed that Gabriel had turned out the overhead lights; they were moving about in just the light from the steady, soft glow emanating from Dean’s soul.

***

Castiel changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt while Dean brushed his teeth. He tucked Dean in, actually tucking the covers in around him as a joke, grinning as Dean laughed. Then, he waited until Dean had fallen back to sleep, seated himself at the desk, and picked up the journal where he’d left off earlier - at Dean’s letter to John Winchester.

> _ Dear Dad, _
> 
> _ Turns out that most of what I thought I knew about you was fake, implanted by Alastair in Hell. Makes it hard to keep hating you, to keep being so angry at you. _
> 
> _ Except that the one constant on which everyone agrees is that you were a neglectful son of a bitch. You made me a parent at the age of four, forced me to raise Sam because you couldn’t be bothered, because your revenge was too important to you, so important that you were willing to abandon your own children – us – for days, even weeks, at a time. If it hadn’t been for me, Sam would have starved, or ended up on the streets, or dead. If it hadn’t been for me, Sam would never have gone to school. The fight the two of you had about Sam going to Stanford? Wouldn’t have happened, but for me, and my making sure that Sam always did his homework, got to school on time, had a lunch to eat. _
> 
> **_So, yeah, I’m still angry._ **

Cas nodded as he read, his own emotions stirred by Dean’s words to his father.

_ Good for you, my heart. I would be angry, too. I  _ **_am_ ** _ angry, on your behalf.  _

The angel continued to read.

> _ Everyone always credits Sam with being smart, and God knows, he is.  _ **_But what about me?_ ** _ High school drop out, got my GED, never even went to trade school, much less college, because you and hunting and revenge had to be more important. But Mia, my therapist –  _ **_yeah, Dad, that’s right, your son’s in therapy, and he likes it_ ** _ – says that she thinks that tests would show that  _ **_I’m every bit as smart as Sam_ ** _ , that if I had ever been  _ **_allowed_ ** _ to be good at school, I would have been. But all my worrying, about Sam, about where you were, about whether I could make the money last, the food be enough, about whether today was the day I would pass out from hunger because I had to make sure Sam got fed, even if I didn’t – that was all a  _ **_distraction_ ** _ that kept me from doing my best in school, that made sure that I wasn’t listening when the teacher was asking a question or giving a lecture. I had more important things on my mind. I was too busy trying to make sure Sam and I stayed  _ **_alive_ ** _. And that’s on you, Dad. _
> 
> **_So, yeah, I’m still angry_ ** _. _

Cas smiled. Of  _ course _ Dean was as smart as Sam. He was just as good at doing research as Sam, if need be; he simply wasn’t inclined to do it very often, being more of a man of action. He could take one look at a troubled engine and diagnose the problem; and he knew everything there was to know about classic rock music. Dean preferred simple food, but Cas knew Dean could cook like a gourmet when he wanted to, and was able to properly gauge portions and timing of a meal so that everything was hot when it ought to be and nothing went to waste. And, Dean always knew when others (particularly Sam, Cas, and Jack, but others, as well) needed care, almost like a sixth sense, a deep-seated empathy, that Cas considered nothing short of genius. He knew that Dean had a strong tendency to be self-deprecating and not admit to being worthy, smart, or good, so this section of the letter to John was, in Cas’ opinion,  _ brilliant _ . 

Cas wanted to weep at Dean’s snarling defense of therapy, at Dean’s  _ need  _ to defend to his dead father the fact that he was getting help and  _ enjoying the process _ . If John hadn’t considered going to therapy to be a sign of weakness, and hadn’t thought it such an evil to be perceived as “weak”, drumming it into his sons’ heads that they could never rely on others or seek help of almost any kind, Dean might have gotten the help he needed  _ years  _ earlier. And he  _ did  _ need it. He was making excellent progress, and quite quickly, but Cas wasn’t blind to the depth of Dean’s problems - indeed, he was intimately aware of them. He knew that the fact that Dean had defended therapy in writing to his father was, itself, a major step. He hoped Mia had realized just how significant it truly was.

The angel continued to read.

> _ I’ve been so angry for so long that I couldn’t keep it in. It bubbled up constantly, and it’s affected every potential relationship I’ve ever had. I almost lost the one person I couldn’t bear to live without because of it. But you know what, Dad?  _ **_I got help._ ** _ And I found out that expressing my feelings won’t kill me, doesn’t make me weak. In fact, it makes me stronger. And I’m letting go of that anger. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I’m better off without it. _
> 
> _ I’m in love, Dad. With Cas. An Angel of the Lord permanently in a male vessel. And he’s in love with me. We’re together, and that makes me stronger. _
> 
> _ I don’t know whether you would have liked this relationship, or not. My memories of you say that you wouldn’t, but I know those memories are flawed. If you weren’t the homophobic asshole that I remember, then I apologize. But even if you wouldn’t have liked it a bit, Dad – I don’t care.  _ **_This is mine, and you don’t get to take it from me._ **

_ Damn straight! _

Castiel sat up straighter, slightly flushed, grinning from ear-to-ear. He glanced over at the sleeping hunter with deep affection. 

_Oh, my heart. I am_ ** _so_** _in love with you! And I am so, so proud of you._

_ Castiel  _

Lucifer quietly spoke up, within Cas' head.  _ "I'm glad he's making such progress, little brother. It's been obvious for a long time that the two of you ought to be together. It's nice to see." _

_ "Thank you, Lucifer,"  _ Castiel acknowledged the comment with a thought. 

_ "I hope Shann takes me up on my offer. You and Dean need to be able to be alone, without me around to spoil it. I know I make him nervous. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want someone watching me, either." _

Cas nodded.  _ "We knew from the start that this wasn't a long-term solution. But I'm not throwing you back to the Empty, or Heaven, if you don't want to go. Even if Shann doesn't accept your offer, we'll find a vessel for you. You're trying to make progress, too. And I'm proud of you, as well." _

Lucifer smiled, an almost shy little smile, appreciative of Cas' pride in his efforts.  _ "I haven't done nearly enough.... Do you... do you think maybe I could speak to Jack, tomorrow? Or soon, maybe? If you don't think he'd be ready, I understand, but... I miss my son, Cas." _

Cas worried at his lip with his teeth gently as he considered Lucifer's request.  _ "I'm not against it, myself, but it's not solely up to me. I can certainly ask the others for you, though." _

_ "Thank you, little brother. I know you've had more to do with Jack's raising than I ever will. You, Dean, and Sam, you're his dads. But he's still my son, too. I won't make demands, but I can ask, now and then, can't I?"  _ Lucifer hung his head, and Cas realized that he wasn't faking being humble, he had actually found humility - rare enough for any archangel, but for one who'd been corrupted by the Mark? 

_"Of course you can, Lucifer. And where I can, I will try to see that your requests are_ _met,"_ Cas assured him, quietly.

At that, Lucifer withdrew into his own thoughts, and Cas returned to reading Dean's journal.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, nothing untoward happened while Cas and Gabe were away from the Bunker, and now Chuck and Kathy are safely there, as well. :)
> 
> Dean is doing so well, apologizing, accepting compliments graciously...glowing.... ;D Gabe noticed the glow - that's why he turned off the lights - but Cas didn't. Perhaps Castiel is getting a little too familiar with the light in Dean's soul? ;)
> 
> Cas is so proud of Dean, and justly so. I won't do long recitations or reactions beyond this, but Cas' reaction to Dean's letter to John is important. Dean is so fierce in standing up to John - for himself, for Cas, and for their relationship - and Cas had had no idea, as he's only read a very few pages of Dean's therapeutic writings until now. ;)
> 
> Lucifer's making progress, too. And since they are mind-to-mind, sharing the vessel, Lucifer can't lie to Cas, and vice versa; their minds are open to each other. This trial period of sharing a vessel makes Cas a credible witness as to Lucifer's good intentions, to Shann, and to others.
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please, please comment! Let me know what you think, what you like/dislike, if you're still alive, still here, still following along.... Speak up!! Comments are life, people!! ;D


	190. Dean, Dean, and More Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Gabe get the food ready for Jack's homecoming, even though the kid's been gone less than a week. Dean writes his daily journal entry, and his assigned letter to Future Dean.

Dean woke early, even for him, to find Cas asleep, still seated at the desk, his head down, cheek pillowed on his arm on the desk. Dean smiled softly, lifted the angel gently, and carried him to the bed, sliding him under the covers and returning the favor of tucking him in. Dean slid into his bathrobe, and headed for the bathroom. Once finished there, he headed for the kitchen.

Dean set out a few boxes of cereal, some bowls and spoons, and the milk. He made a fresh pot of coffee, poured into a thermos, and started a second pot. The thermos went next to the cereal. He put the toaster next to that, and plugged it in. Now everything for breakfast was out on the table, on the far side of the kitchen, standing as a silent message to everyone to help themselves and not get in his and Gabe’s way, as they worked on the food for Jack’s homecoming, Dean making the main course food items and side dishes, and Gabriel making the breads and desserts.

_ Kid’s been gone less than a week, and we’re setting up to welcome him home like he’s been away for years. _

Dean’s thought was accompanied by a fond smile for his foster son. He hadn’t been all that enthused about Jack to begin, but the nephilim had grown on him, and he was very much a part of the family, now.

Gabe came in around 6:30 - or what would have been 6:30, were the clocks working. He got himself a cup of coffee, then started work on his first batch of pastries. He and Dean worked efficiently, moving around each other easily, now and then passing the other something, or passing a quick comment. 

The others came in and got coffee, toast, and cereal, and, in deference to the obvious wishes of the cooks, quickly departed for other parts of the Bunker. At around what would have been 8:00, Cas came in, saw Dean’s smile, and blushed slightly as he got himself a cup of coffee. Dean paused in his work to come over and give Cas a quick kiss, then got back to it.

By what would have been 10:00, the entire lunch buffet was set up in the War Room, with only a few details left to add when they were ready to eat. Jack would be home soon, so, in the meantime, Dean had some other work to do. He gave a final wipe of a sponge across the kitchen counter, threw the sponge into the sink, and headed for the room he shared with Cas to write his last journal entry before his next session with Mia.

***

Dean seated himself at the desk and took a deep breath, then opened the journal to the next blank page - where he found a post-it note.

_ Dean, I read the whole thing from start to finish, and I am honored that you trust me with so much of yourself. I am so proud of you and the progress you’ve made so far, my heart. Thank you for loving me so much, and for finally being willing to take a chance. I love you. Always, Cas _

He smiled, took the note and put it in the box under his bed where he kept a few things that were important to him, including pictures of his parents and Sam. And then he came back, sat down, uncapped his pen, and got to work.

***

**_Tuesday Morning, Before Session_ **

_ So, after my last journal entry yesterday afternoon, Cas flew up to Sioux Falls and got Claire. He told Jody about the engagement while he was there, but left it a surprise for us to tell Claire together. He brought her back with him and we sat her down for a “serious discussion” - she looked so worried at the start, I almost laughed. But I didn’t, just assured her that everything was good. Then Cas started in by telling her that after Jimmy died, he’d felt an obligation to her, and he thinks that’s why she rejected him, then; she could feel that there was no emotion behind that base obligation, and she didn’t want anything from the entity wearing her father. But since then, as they’ve learned more about each other, he’s come to love her, and he hoped that she knew that. Bless her, she said that she did, and that he’d now been in her life longer than Jimmy had been, and taken better care of her than Jimmy ever had, and that in every way that mattered, she felt like Cas  _ **_is_ ** _ her father, now. He said he was glad that she felt that way, because he had a favor to ask - would she be the Maid of Honor in his wedding? She was happy, but then asked who he was marrying, and before she had the sentence out, we were both holding up our left hands, showing our matching engagement bands, and all she could say was to squeak out, “Really?” I confirmed, “Really,” and she said that was “so cool!” and jumped up and hugged Cas. Then she asked if she had to “be all girly and wear a dress,” so I suggested a tux, and she thought that was great, and hugged me, too. We called Sam in because Claire wanted a picture, and Shann snapped one of the four of us on Cas’ cell phone, and Cas sent a copy to each of us. I said it was time to start dinner, and Claire insisted on getting pizza for everyone, on her. _

_ After dinner, Sam and I were cleaning up, and I realized that I’d never actually asked him to be my Best Man - I’d just assumed that he would do it - so I asked, and he said he would. Apparently, he’d been waiting for me to ask. I feel kind of bad that I hadn’t, but on the other hand, at least I felt like it didn’t have to be said, that I knew I could trust Sam to be there for me, that I felt worthy enough to rely on him, and that’s progress, right?  _

_ Cas took Claire back to Sioux Falls, and when he got back, the stars were brilliant in the night sky. It was crisp and clear, but not terribly cold, good weather for star-gazing, so rather than coming into the Bunker, Cas called me on his cell and asked me to come outside so he could show me something. I came out, and he pointed up, and I saw the sky and knew just what he was thinking. We watched the stars for a little bit, just silently enjoying each others’ company.  _

_ Then I asked if he wanted anyone else, besides Claire and Sam, in the wedding party, and he said he’d thought he might ask Gabe, and then we could ask Jack, together, and then everyone else could just be a guest. And I said that I thought that made sense - both of our brothers and both of our kids being our wedding party.  _

_ Then Cas said that he’d seen this thing on TV once, where the bride and groom had people in their lives who couldn’t be at their wedding, because they’d died, or were serving overseas, or whatever, so they had put up pictures of their absent loved ones, as if the picture was taking their place in the audience. And then he asked if I wanted to put up pictures of  _ **_my_ ** _ absent loved ones - including Ben and Emma. I froze for a second, I think because I’m not used to having it be acknowledged that I even  _ **_had_ ** _ those children, or that I love them still. I know that they can’t be at the wedding - Emma’s dead and Ben doesn’t know who I am anymore - but it meant so much to me that Cas would think to suggest that, and just mentioned their names casually, like,  _ **_of course,_ ** _ they’re among your absent loved ones. I just said, “no, but thank you for thinking of it, Angel.” What else could I have said? I don’t have any pictures of Emma, or Ben, and it would feel odd to me to have pictures of anyone else up at my wedding and  _ **_not_ ** _ have pictures of the two of them.  _

_ At that point, it was getting colder, so we went inside and went to get ready for bed. Cas, of course, doesn’t need to sleep, unless his grace is depleted or he wants to try to build some up in anticipation of a stressful event, and with him sharing his vessel with Lucifer temporarily, I wasn’t expecting him to come to bed, too. So, in case he needed something to do while I was asleep, I asked if he wanted to read my journal (I’ve had him read small parts of it already, and he’d given me some very good insights, and I want to hear what he thinks of the rest of it). But then he said he was thinking he’d lay down, too. So, I asked if he was tired - because with an archangel’s power to draw on, as well as his own, he shouldn’t be tired, so if he is, that’s a concern - and he said no, but he’d thought it would be nice to snuggle, and it has been a while since we tried a new ‘one new thing’ - and that freaked me out a bit.  _

_ I don’t want to be intimate with Cas with Lucifer - or anyone else, either - tagging along, as it were, and I snapped at him. He asked if something was wrong, and I told him, and we got past it. He agreed that we should wait until Lucifer is no longer sharing his vessel, and he understands why I am uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have snapped, and I owe him an apology for that, but it did lead to communication, eventually. And yeah, that’s because Cas asked - but he wouldn’t have asked, before. It would have just been just another dead issue, lying between us, building a wall. Those walls are down, now, and once he did ask, I was fine with explaining. The snap was instinctual,and I need to work on that, still, but hey, we talked! Progress! _

_ Then I went to bed, and Cas started reading. I had barely fallen asleep when Cas got a phone call; he went out in the hall to take it, so as not to disturb me, but the ring tone woke me, so I was up when he came back. Turned out, he went down the hall to speak with Gabe, and have him get Sam up for a discussion amongst all four of us. The call was from his friend, Kathy. She’s been hosting, well, God, and he suddenly disappeared from his vessel last night, leaving the poor guy - Chuck Shurley, author of the  _ Supernatural _ book series - to come up to the surface with no memory of the past ten years. Cas was concerned that they might not be safe in Kathy’s cabin, so he wanted to take Gabe and go to get them. I knew he’d be right back, there was no angst in it for me, but Sam gets a little jumpy when Gabriel does anything risky, and he was upset. His being upset then upset me, and I got mildly snappish again with Cas. I didn’t yell or raise my voice, but I kind of barked out orders and stalked off, and I know he wasn’t pleased with me (I did apologize to him for that, later). But Cas did everything right, so after I stalked off, I went off by myself to think. Why was I irritated?  _

_ I realized what it was, and I went back out to talk to Sam, and, sure enough, he was having a mild crisis, and asked me how I dealt with feeling unworthy of Cas, how I’d gotten past it. I told him that I haven’t. I know I’m not good enough for Castiel, but he loves me, and that makes me want to try to be good enough, and that’s all anyone can really do - try. Then Cas and Gabe came back with Chuck and Kathy, and we humans all went to bed. I don’t know what Gabe did - he went off with Sammy. Cas came back, sat down, and returned to reading my journal. When I started to write this entry this morning, I found a note from him: “Dean, I read the whole thing from start to finish, and I am honored that you trust me with so much of yourself. I am so proud of you and the progress you’ve made so far, my heart. Thank you for loving me so much, and for finally being willing to take a chance. I love you. Always, Cas.” It made me smile. And that’s everything, except for today’s assignment - my letter to future me. _

***

_ Dear Dean: _

_ Someday, when I’m old and gray, I will take out this journal, and re-read this letter, and think back fondly on the therapy process that allowed me to admit my feelings for Castiel. He will likely be sitting right beside me, curled up, with his head resting on my shoulder, eating popcorn to try to fool me into thinking he’s human (like I can’t see right through that!).  _

_ I hope by then we’ll have retired completely from hunting. I might still work at restoring a car now and then. We’ll live in a house out in the country, with room for our children and theirs; Jack will come by with his kids, and Claire with hers. We’ll have hives for Cas’ bees, and he’ll have a cat that, due to my allergies, he feeds in the barn and pretends is a stray. I pretend I don’t know it’s there, but now and then, I give it a pet… after taking a Claritin. _

_ I hope that Sam and Gabe live somewhere close by.  _

_ I don’t really know what else to write to you, Old Gray Me. Except this:  _ **_don’t fuck it up_ ** _. Be good to Castiel, and to yourself.  _ **_Let yourself be happy, Dean_ ** _.  _

_ You earned it. _

_ Dean _

***

Dean capped his pen, put his journal away in his duffel bag, ready to take to Mia’s office later, and went to see if Jack was home yet.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROGRESS!!!
> 
> No art this chapter. Didn't think it needed it, and it was running a little long, anyway. ;)
> 
> Please comment! I need something to think about besides GISH projects (Jared Plaidalecki is giving me fits!), so come and talk to me! ;D


	191. Jack's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Gabe, Cas, and Sam discuss Lucifer's request to speak with Jack. Jack returns, but cannot enter the Bunker.

Dean entered the War Room to find no one. He diverted into the library, and found Cas and Gabe talking in a corner, and Sam and Shann working at the conference table. He didn’t want to interrupt anyone, so he waited for Cas to notice him, which occurred within thirty seconds. 

“Hello, Dean. Gabe says the food is all set, we’re just waiting on Jack to eat.” Cas smiled.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we’re good to go, soon as the kid walks in.”

“I have something I need to discuss with both of you; Sam too,” Cas said. He turned and called out, “Sam? Could you join us for a moment?”

Sam got up and came over. “What’s up?”

“Lucifer made a request last night. He said he knows that he has a lot to make up for, and he doesn’t expect us to take it lightly, but he’d like to speak with Jack. Today, if we think Jack’s ready, but sometime soon, if not. Now, I said I would bring the request to you, but I have to say, I’m in favor of it. I won’t act on my own, and if the three of you don’t agree, that’s fine. But I want to just point out that Lucifer’s been very good, here. He hasn’t once tried to seize control, he’s helped with spotting and sealing off the bleed-through spots, and he’s also offered to help Shann with research, whether that means going into Shann as a vessel, or not. The Mark is gone; he’s showing no signs of corruption; he’s been truly humble and penitent. Frankly, I think he’s ready; the question is, is Jack?” Cas put Lucifer’s request forward, and waited for the reactions.

Gabe shrugged. “I don’t have anything against it, but Jack’s not my kid. I haven’t helped raise him, like the three of you have. I’ll go with whatever everyone else thinks.”

Dean considered it. “I don’t have a problem with a supervised visit, in terms of Lucifer and Jack having a chat. I think maybe for their first time talking, we should sit in, just in case. We can ask Jack how he feels about it. But I am concerned about how this would work for you, Cas. You have to let Lucifer come forward for him to speak; are we concerned that once you do, he doesn’t go back to letting you drive?”

Cas shook his head. “I’m not concerned. I’m stronger than I was the last time he and I shared a vessel, and he knows it. If he tried to seize control, I’d expel him, and he’d have nowhere to go. Stuck in his true form, he’s not exactly powerless, but he’d have no focus, no control. That was why he needed to share this vessel with me in the first place.”

Dean nodded. “Fine by me, then. Sam?”

Sam had been listening to the discussion, but at the same time, thinking about his own position. “I want to clarify, first - the Lucifer currently in Cas’ vessel, let’s call him Lucy, that’s the one from this universe, correct? The one in my brain, let’s call him Luce, is one that Amara brought over from some alternate universe to trap in the Cage for her own purposes? And we’re agreed that Lucy actually is  _ our Jack’s _ father, and Luce is the father of  _ another Jack _ , in some alternate universe somewhere, right?”

Gabe nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then I have a question. I told Luce, back when he pulled me into that pocket dimension for that first discussion about wanting to help, that we’d basically be a committee about what to do with him in general, and specifically with reference to Jack. But I haven’t spoken directly with Lucy since he came back from the Empty. So I’d like to know how Lucy knew about the committee’s terms, knew to ask not just Cas, but all of us, about speaking with Jack?”

Cas smiled. “Lucy and I are mind-to-mind, Sam, in a way that Luce and you are not, currently. Lucy knows what I know, I know what he knows. He can’t lie to, or hide secrets from, me, and vice versa. I know about the committee, so, he does, too.”

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure there wasn’t something hinky going on there. Well, in that case, yeah, I told Luce that we’d let Jack consider whether he wanted to speak with him. I think that applies here, as well. Jack needs to be told that there are two Lucifers in this universe, that both of them consider themselves to be his father, and that both want to speak with him. He may not want to speak with either of them, frankly, but I think it has to be his decision, in the end. If we’re all okay with it, great, but he may not be. But yeah, if Jack is willing, then I have no problem with, as Dean suggested, a supervised visit, today, between Lucy, the Lucifer in Cas’ vessel, and Jack. But just so you know, that might upset Luce, the Lucifer in my head, because he has no way to do the same, and it’s not really fair to him to leave him out.”

Gabe scratched his head. “Well, actually, there is a way, Sam.”

“Oh?”

_ Sam  _

“Well, I could take Jack into your memory palace, if he wanted to go, while you slept. I could turn off your REM cycle so you slept through it, or if you wanted, we could interrupt a dream and pull you into the discussion, too. Luce wouldn’t be able to speak with Jack  _ alone _ , but we’re wanting supervised visitation for both Lucifers, anyway, right?”

Castiel nodded. “I think that would work. It would have to be Gabe that took Jack in, but that would be do-able, yes; that is, if Sam is willing to allow it, and Jack is willing to speak with Luce.”

“I’m willing,” Sam agreed.

Dean nodded. “Sounds like a plan, then. We talk to Jack this afternoon, let him know the situation, let him make up his own mind about whether or not he wants to speak with either Lucifer, or both, and how that would be done, and, if he decides he want to talk, then we set a time for it to happen.”

“Good plan. Now, how about getting Luce and Michael out of Sam’s head? If Cas, with his Lucifer’s help and power, me, and Jack all work together, we should be able to get them out even without Amara’s ‘help.’ Then we just have to decide - do we let them stay here, and help if it comes to a fight with Dad, or do we have to have a plan with regard to where to send them?” Gabe proposed.

“I think we  _ could  _ get them out. The question is,  _ should we _ ? They’re currently doing no harm to Sam, correct?” Cas asked.

“That’s true, Cas, they stopped forcing nightmares a while ago,” Sam said. “If we don’t have a place to put them, though, like the Cage, which we can’t access so far as I’m aware - do we want them just wandering around the Bunker? Wouldn’t they need vessels, too?”

Gabe nodded. “They would, yes, and we don’t have vessels available. Even if Lucy, in Cas now, were to go into Shann, we’d still need a vessel for the other Lucifer, and one for Michael. And they, I would point out, have not agreed (yet, at least) to let their vessel-mate drive. They  _ have _ agreed not to restart the Apocalypse, so that’s something, at least.”

Dean snorted. “Great. Well, I’m not taking Mikey back. Even if it’s a different, tamer Mikey. Hard pass, thanks.”

Gabe grinned. “Kinda thought you might say that, Dean-o.”

Sam nodded. “Same goes, here, for Lucifer. It’s one thing for him to reside in my head, as it is, with no power. But to share space with him, as a vessel for him, again? No. Not happening. Don’t care if he’s no longer corrupt, that’s not a prom that I want to relive, thanks.”

“Agreed.” Castiel concurred. “So, let’s table the issue of the Archangels in Sam’s brain for the moment; they’re not causing trouble and we have nowhere to put them. With regard to Lucy and Luce talking with Jack, we’re agreed to go forward with Dean’s plan, then? We’ll sit down with Jack and talk with him about it later today?”

They all nodded. 

_ “Thanks, little brother,” Lucifer told Cas, internally. “Let them know that I appreciate the consideration, please.” _

“Lucifer says thanks, and he appreciates the consideration of his request,” Cas said aloud. 

“Okay. So, then, we’re just waiting on Jack. Where the hell is the kid, anyway?” Dean wondered.

***

In fact, Jack was, at that very moment, standing in the parking lot, next to Shann’s car, looking at a blank hillside that gave no indication that there was a building there at all. He knew it was an illusion, but could not penetrate it to see through it. When he touched the grass, it actually felt like grass, even though he knew there should be a metal railing in the spot where he’d put his hand. He went up the hill, and was able to climb the tree - which, he knew for a fact, did not even exist. 

_ Great. I’m gone less than a week, and they’ve put up wards so strong that I can’t even see the place, much less actually get in. _

Jack would have laughed at the absurdity of it, if he weren’t so anxious to get inside and see his dads. He pulled out his cell phone, brought up his contacts list, and hit the button to dial Castiel. He listened intently as he got a “user is out of service range” message from the cell phone carrier. He tried Dean, and got the same message. He tried Sam, and got the same message. He couldn’t even leave voice mail messages for them.

_What the heck is going on? Why would my dads ward the Bunker like this? Come to think of it,_ ** _how_** _did they even manage to do so? Or did they?_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh. Bunker's mysteriously over-warded, again! 
> 
> Please comment! 
> 
> [GUYS! If you didn't see this in the comments for last chapter, I am still soooooo freaking geeked about this - MISHA FOLLOWED ME ON TWITTER! OMG! Eep! *bouncebouncebounce* Sorry, I'll shut up about it now. ;) ]


	192. Dean’s Fifth Session With Mia, Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has his fifth therapy session with Mia.

Dean realized that if he stayed around for Jack’s welcome home party, late as the kid seemed to be at this point, then Dean was going to be late for therapy (not that there’d be any clocks to tell it by). He told Cas where he was going, ducked out of the library, and scooted back to their room to grab the duffel bag with his journal in it, then headed down to the garage.

As he opened the garage door, he had a sudden thought. He jumped into the Impala and started her up, then drove out of the garage, careful to leave the garage door open, and around to the parking lot - where, sure enough, Jack was standing in front of a featureless hillside, next to Shann’s car. 

Dean rolled down the window. “Hey, kiddo. Jump in, quick. I’ll drive you around, and then I have to go.”

Jack got in on the passenger side, and Dean drove back around to the garage. “Thanks, Dean.” 

“Not a problem. Hey, tell everyone, leave the garage door open, hey? I’ll be back after therapy, and I’m gonna want to be able to get back in. Let Gabe know the front’s a problem again, see if they can get out that way, and if they can, tell them to be careful to leave a way to get back in. Okay, I’ve gotta split, so head on inside.”

Dean gave him a quick smile as Jack got out of the car and shut the door, then headed into the Bunker. Dean drove back out of the garage, and headed for Mia’s office.

***

“Hello, Dean. Come in, please, have a seat.” Mia smiled in welcome as he entered her office.

“Thanks, Mia.” He seated himself on the couch, and handed over his journal. Mia thumbed through to the page where they’d last left off the week before.

“Before we get started with the journal, Dean, how are you feeling today?” 

“I feel pretty good, thanks. Things are going pretty well with Cas, Sam and Gabe seem to be doing okay, Jack had been away at a friend’s house, visiting, but he came home today, Shann seems to be working out well for Sam, so, yeah. I mean, there were odd things that happened this last week, but over all, yeah, I’d say I’m feeling pretty good.” Dean smiled.

“Good. Have you been tempted to drink at all this week?”

“No. Not once.” 

“Any sniping at Cas?”

“A little, yeah, but I caught myself, and didn’t spiral.”

“Are you feeling more comfortable in the relationship, more certain that you can depend on it?”

“Yes, I am. It’s nice. Well, except….”

“Except...what?”

“Well, Cas is sharing his vessel at the moment.”

“Oh? That’s new, isn’t it?”

“Well, it is, and it isn’t. He’s shared his vessel with this particular entity before.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Lucifer.”

“And you’re okay with this, Dean?” Mia looked startled, and Dean didn’t blame her.

“Well… to be honest, no. Not completely. I mean, I understand why Cas did what he did. I just wish he hadn’t. And now we’re kinda stuck with the situation, at least temporarily, and it does make me uncomfortable.”

“I bet. I assume you journaled about this?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to ask, Dean, if you continue to feel that it’s productive for you to come all the way across town once a week, just to have me read your journal and ask questions about what you’ve written to clarify things for my own benefit. And if you do, great, we can certainly continue to do that. But I want to offer you an alternative, if you’re open to it. It seems to me that you’ve really been doing all the work by writing down your thoughts all along, and I could just as easily keep up with your journal remotely. We could email back and forth about your journal entries, for example. And if you felt a need, you could call me, or even come in, but it wouldn’t have to be as structured as it has been. What would you think about having our sessions be by electronic means, rather than in person, Dean? Would that be of interest to you, or not?”

Dean bit his lip and worried it with his teeth a bit. “Can I think about it and let you know?”

“Of course.” Mia nodded. “It’s completely up to you, Dean, either way. I’m not trying to push you out. If you want to come in, as we’ve been doing, it’s absolutely fine.

“I also wanted to suggest that for at least one session, you might want to bring Castiel along with you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Maybe. He’s read my journal, and he’s given me some pretty good feedback on parts of it already. It helped.”

“Okay. Well, think about that, too, then.” Mia smiled. 

Mia turned to the first entry after the prior session - Dean’s letter to his four-year-old self - and read it.

“May I ask, Dean, why you chose your four-year-old self to write to first?”

“It’s the earliest I can remember clearly - the day of the fire. I might be able to come up with bits and pieces, or flashes of recall before that day, but that’s my first clear memory where I know for a fact what happened and how old I was. And also because that’s the day that everything changed. When Dad went from being a sweet, loving, father who laughed and played with me, and swept me up in his arms to carry me on his shoulder, to being a dark, often drunk, neglectful son of a bitch who left me in charge of an infant so he could seek his revenge on the demon who killed our mother.” Dean studiously kept his eyes on his hands, twisting in his lap.

“You tell yourself here that you didn’t do anything wrong; that it was Azazel’s fault, not yours. But then you write that 36 years later, you still don’t really believe that. You say that ‘emotionally, I’m still you,” meaning the four-year-old version of you. You also say that ‘everyone leaves’ you. Is that still how you feel today, a week later, Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “No.” He looked up at Mia. “It isn’t.”

“Okay. Then tell me how you feel now.”

“Now, it’s more that people that I love might… wander away, but they also wander back to me. Sam left, but he came back, and stayed. Cas left, but he came back, and he’s staying. I believe in Cas, I believe in  _ us _ , and I trust it. So, I don’t feel so much that it’s an inevitability that everyone will leave me and I’ll be alone and abandoned, anymore. I’m not that confused, unhappy toddler anymore.”

“Excellent. That’s really good, Dean. Now, should I go on to your daily journal entry that you wrote that same day, or should I skip ahead to your next letter to yourself, and come back to the daily entries afterward? Up to you.”

“I think that it would make more sense to you if you read everything in the order in which I wrote it, Mia.” Dean grinned at her. “I made a lot of progress this week, and if you just read the letters, you’ll see it, but you won’t understand the reasons behind them.”

Mia nodded. “That makes sense. So, reading the first couple of paragraphs from your Tuesday evening entry, then, it looks like you and Cas had a little bit of an episode to work through, where he was maybe a little disrespectful of your feelings. Tell me about that, Dean.”

“Yeah. We just needed to talk it through, I think. He’s used to being, for lack of a better term, a ‘superior being,’ and he gets lost in his planning and organizing, and doesn’t listen. But when I called him on it, he  _ did _ listen, and he got over himself, and apologized, and actually thought about what I was suggesting, and agreed to try my suggestion out.”

“And did he?”

“Yeah. Well, he tried. I suggested that he speak with Joshua, the angel who used to be Heaven’s gardener; God used to talk to him sometimes, and I thought maybe Joshua would know how to recognize whether a particular entity really  _ was _ God or not. So when he came upstairs last week, while I was here, he tried to find Joshua, but it turned out that after Metatron expelled all the angels from Heaven initially, Joshua never returned, and no one has seen him since then. Cas couldn’t even find out if he was still on Earth, or if he’d died and gone to the Empty; if so, he hadn’t been brought back, and he isn’t up in Heaven, now. So, like I said, Cas tried to make my suggestion work, but there was nothing he could do about the fact that Joshua simply wasn’t there.”

Mia nodded. “And then you say here that that evening, Cas clearly did something to indicate his respect for you - he reminded you that you’re allowed to say ‘no’ if you don’t want to do something particular of a sexual nature with him, or anything that you’re not comfortable with or ready for yet.”

“Yeah. And I wasn’t even thinking that I wasn’t comfortable with what he’d proposed, it was just when he proposed it, my brain just… stopped for a second. I think that’s due to… well, I remember my dad being very homophobic, but, as you know, I have implanted memories, courtesy of Alastair, so I don’t know if that’s real, or fake. But it comes down to this - those memories conditioned me to be what my father would have thought of as ‘manly.’ And being on the receiving end of sex with another man would not be part of that. So, when Cas proposed that, it took me a bit to get past that conditioning, but I wasn’t rejecting Cas, or the idea of it, I was just… having a brain fart, basically.”

Mia laughed at the term. “A ‘brain fart’, eh? That’s a new one on me, Dean. I like it.” He grinned at her.

“And when you did get right down to it, you describe it here, and you say that it was ‘hot’ a couple of times, but you don’t really say whether or not you actually enjoyed it. Did you? Or did that conditioning interfere with your enjoyment of the act? I’m asking not out of prurient interest; if you’re reacting to conditioning you don’t want, we can work on that, but only if I know it’s happening.”

“I did enjoy it. I have to say, honestly, I didn’t really expect to. And that’s not just the conditioning, but also due to the fact that, while in Hell, I was raped and used sexually, with and without my consent, both gently and violently, depending on who was doing it and when. But Cas was… great. He was a little demanding, and very assertive, very in charge, but also very gentle, never hurt me, and at each step of the way he checked in with me, had me ask for what I wanted next. He didn’t do anything to or with me that I hadn’t asked for explicitly. And that let me relax into it. He took control in making me ask, but I had all the power.”

Mia smiled. “Cas is very smart. And sounds like he’s a rather generous lover, too.”

Dean blushed a little, but nodded.

Mia continued on to the next portion of the entry. “This is a nice conversation, in the kitchen with Sam before our last session. He sounds very supportive of you.”

“He is. But then, he and I have always had each others’ backs. The only time in his life when I didn’t support Sam, I regretted it.”

“When was that, Dean?”

“Stanford.”

“Ah.”

“I should’ve stood up to Dad, and I didn’t. And I didn’t see Sam again for just over two years. And I’m sure he thought that I hated him during that time. I didn’t, but I didn’t do enough to support him. And I’m ashamed of that, now. But, honestly, I don’t know if then I could have done anything differently from what I did do then. I was still Dad’s obedient little soldier, then. And it wasn’t like I actively supported Dad’s side of the argument, either. I just… played Switzerland.”

“Neutral. Didn’t take either side, you mean.”

“Yeah. But just like the Swiss were technically neutral but still did a hell of a lot in support of the Nazi regime… I was technically neutral, but I stayed with Dad and kept hunting with him. I know it hurt Sammy.”

“Do you think he’s forgiven you for that, Dean?”

“Probably.”

“Well, you write here that Sam told you, ‘You were supposed to just be his perfect little soldier. He didn’t pull that kind of crap with me nearly as much, and I fought back against it a lot more than you did, and I still have trouble talking about my feelings. It has to be at least one hundred times worse for you. You’re not imagining that, Dean.’ That sounds like he’s forgiving you. So, have you forgiven yourself, Dean?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “I guess I should, huh?”

“It might help,” Mia smiled. “So, you all got together in the Bunker after our last session for a meeting, looks like, and then you went to write your journal entry. And then, at the very end, you write that you need to have a talk with Cas about where the two of you want your relationship to go, long-term, and… ‘Cas Winchester’, Dean? Anything you want to tell me?” 

Dean grinned. “Keep reading. No spoilers.”

Mia laughed. 

Then Dean blushed, and held up his left hand. “Yeah. I proposed. We’re engaged.”

“Oh, Dean! Congratulations! That’s wonderful.” Mia smiled widely, and Dean went back to looking at his hands, but his smile was just as wide.

“The, uh, well, one of the versions of the proposal speech is the next thing in the journal, I think. I wrote out two or three versions, trying to plan out what I was going to say, like you suggested, and it really did help.”

Mia turned the page to the first draft of the proposal. “Oh.” She said it softly. “That’s lovely, even for just a first draft, Dean.”

The tips of Dean’s ears were a dark red, now. He nodded. “I wanted to get it just right, though, and I didn’t think that was quite it, but yeah, even I thought it was fairly good for a first draft.”

“So, moving on to Wednesday morning. This time, the daily entry is first. Now, who is ‘Billie’?”

“Death.” 

“You know Death on a first-name basis?”

“Well, Billie used to be a reaper. I killed the original Death.”

“You... “ Mia took a deep breath. “Of course you did.”

“He wanted me to kill Sammy. Almost had me do it, too. Made me use his own scythe. But instead of hitting Sam with it, I went over Sam’s head, and kept turning, and hit Death with it, instead. And at first, nothing happened, but then, he just crumbled away into dust, and was gone. Apparently, once Death died, the next reaper to die, which was Billie, moved up to take his place. Actually, Cas killed Billie.”

Mia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples gently.

“See, Mia, this is why we kinda have to do our sessions live, I think.” Dean grinned at her.

Mia nodded, then sat up straight and opened her eyes. “Okay. Point taken, Dean. You write here that Billie ‘had a message for Sam – “You need to take the position you were born to take, and Dean needs to go the opposite way. You can both do it, and you’ll have my support” – and one for you – “your books have changed again, and you’re back to multiple options, none of them immediate.” And you indicate that you sort of know what some of that means. Why don’t you take me through that, Dean.”

“Okay. Well, as you may recall from the books, Azazel wanted Sam to lead his demon army, but he also put in motion a plan for Sam to be on the throne of Hell. Azazel either wasn’t sure he’d be able to get Lucifer out of the Cage, or if Lucifer would win the battle against Michael, but either way, he wanted to have his own candidate for the throne, and that was Sam. He put in a claim on the throne for Sam before Sam was even born. Now, of course, Sam isn’t interested, but I figure that’s what Billie was referencing in her message to him.”

“And saying you ‘need to go the opposite way’?”

“Yeah, there I’m clueless. We’ve asked, Billie won’t clarify.” 

“And your books? What’s she talking about?”

“Death has a library. Everyone has a predestined ending to their life, written by the three Fates, and those writings are put into books and collected by Death. Some of us, however, have more than one possible ending, depending on choices that we make, because we all have the ‘gift’ of free will. I apparently have a lot of choices that I could make that lead to different endings, but for a while, they all boiled down to one fate - having taken in Michael from Apocolypse World, I died as his vessel, unless I locked myself into what’s called a Ma’lak Box. Then, I’d be unable to die, locked in to the box with Michael for eternity, but he wouldn’t be able to destroy the world, either. I actually built the damn thing, but then Sam convinced me that it didn’t have to be the only option, that we’d find another way, together. And we did. And so her message to me is that my original wide variety of predestined endings, depending on the wide variety of choices, had been restored, and that I’m not slated to die in any of them, or not right away, at least.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Mia said, with dry wit.

“Yeah, I know, right?” Dean smiled wryly.

“Ah, and then you took Cas shopping, finally. I remember that you’d been wanting to do that.”

“Yeah, and it was a mess, but we finally worked it out and got him some solid good new things to wear. And while he was trying on clothes, I went and got the rings. I’d made dinner reservations, and booked us a room in a nice B&B, and it was really lovely, if I do say so myself, as a setting for a proposal.” Dean smiled softly, but looked a little proud, too.

Mia smiled. “Says here you’re ‘done worrying about what you deserve, Cas is what you want, and if it’s what he wants too, then you want to give it to him.”

Dean nodded, and looked a little fierce. “Damn straight.”

“And then you have a second draft here, which is a good bit shorter than your first.”

“Yeah. I decided ultimately that it was a little too short.” 

Mia nodded. “And next, your letter to your eight-year-old self.”

“Well, that’s really good for anywhere from eight to twelve years old. It was while I was the primary force in charge of taking care of Sammy, where Dad was taking off on his own and dumping us in crap motels for anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks at a time with no adult supervision. We talked about that in my first session.”

“Yes. I remember.” Mia was still irritated with John Winchester. “It says here that you’ve realized that Cas is ‘the love of your life, and Sam is all for it.’ I take it that means you discussed the proposal plans with Sam?”

“Yeah. And he was, too. Really supportive.”

Mia continued to read. “And here’s the third draft of the proposal speech. It’s just lovely, Dean.” 

“Yeah, that’s the one I actually used. I was so nervous that I might not remember what I’d planned to say that I told Cas that I was going to read it, and if I couldn’t get the words out, if I thrust the piece of paper at him, he might have to finish reading it for me, and he promised that he would if it came to that but in the end, I got it all out. And he said yes.” Dean blushed a bit darker still, but smiled widely, remembering.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MUCH. PROGRESS! Even Dean is seeing it and acknowledging it, now. He says himself, he's not that confused unhappy toddler anymore, nor is he the caregiving child-parent. He's allowing Sam to be supportive of him, even.
> 
> Okay, this is a long session, so this is a loooooong chapter, because sooo much is going on. No art in the session chapters, I've decided (I didn't start doing art in any of the chapters until the engagement rings, which was after the last session) because they run so long as it is, but we'll get back to it when we join up with the rest of the story afterward. ;)
> 
> Please comment! Are you seeing the progress? Are you liking how Dean is handling his therapeutic work? Is Mia making good suggestions for him and are they working well enough? Anything you want Mia to dip into further with Dean? Is the email a good idea, or should, as Dean suggests, they continue in person because of all the weird shit that he's had happen to him over time? Talk to me, people!!! ;)


	193. Dean's Fifth Session With Mia, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's therapy session continues.

Mia smiled kindly as Dean blushed, and continued to read. “And here’s where you talk about the day of the proposal, going shopping with Cas, getting the rings, going to dinner… and you note here the beverage choices, specifically - that you had coffee, despite the restaurant having many fine whiskeys available - and you say here that ‘It wasn’t even a difficult choice. I don’t need to feel numb any more.’ Tell me about that, Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Just what it says. For a really long time, I hated my life. I hated myself. I didn’t have anything I wanted and didn’t know how to change things, and the only way I could cope with the horror of what I’d been through was to drown my sorrows - drink until I was numb and couldn’t feel anything any more. I needed to feel numb, I needed not to feel. And I don’t need that, now. A large part of that is Cas, but it’s me, too. 

“I’m making healthier choices. I’m reaching out to the people around me, instead of shutting them out. Letting them help, letting them be supportive of me. And they’re reaching back. And now I see I never really needed the crutch of alcohol. I just needed to open my eyes to the fact that I’m loved. I have a family who loves me, Mia. I was never alone. I just couldn’t see it. Whether because of Dad, or Alastair, or because I’m just an idiot, I just couldn’t see it.”

Mia handed Dean the tissues, and he took one, wiping his eyes. “But now you do.”

“Yeah. Now, I do.”

“Good.” Mia smiled softly. “And then next you proposed, and Cas accepted, and you say here that ‘The whole restaurant applauded us as we hugged. I totally didn’t cry. Okay, I had tears in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Happy tears don’t count anyway.’ Is that a bit of toxic masculinity rearing its ugly head there, Dean?”

Dean grinned through the tears that were still stubbornly falling, wiping his eyes again. “Shut up,” he suggested, without heat. 

Mia laughed. “And then you pointed out to Cas that he was going to be a Winchester, and he hadn’t realized, and you say that ‘he looked so happy, so excited, and I realized a last name was something I could have given him years ago, just by making him a fake ID. I felt horrible that I’d never grasped before how important something like that might be to him. I swear, I’m going to spend the rest of forever making it up to him.’ Dean, do you really think that giving Cas a fake ID with the name ‘Castiel Winchester’ on it would have made Cas anywhere near as happy as getting that name by marrying you does?”

“No.” Dean blushed. “But I still could’ve made a better effort, regarding realizing what Cas wanted and needed. That was my point, there. Not that he would’ve been happy with a flimsy substitute.”

“Ah. Good. And you are making that effort now?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to find things that I can do for Cas, or things that I can give to Cas, not anything big, just little things, here and there, that let him know that I’m thinking about him, that I care. Because for so long, he didn’t know that I cared, or worse, thought I actively hated him, and I regret that, because I love him so damn much, and I hurt him so badly.”

“Do you think Cas is upset with you now, about things you didn’t do for him before, Dean?”

“Well, no.” Dean looked puzzled, as if he couldn’t see where Mia was going with the question.

“Then why are you letting it eat you up? If Cas has let those things go, why can’t you? Dean, you’re still overcompensating as a means of gaining control, from fear of abandonment. Consciously, you know Cas is in it for the long-term, and so are you. But subconsciously? Are you still thinking he’ll leave unless you make up for all the damage of the past?”

Dean looked startled, then closed his eyes, accepting it. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Well?”

Dean took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m not going to stop showing Cas that I care. Because I do. But I’m going to stop thinking of it as making up to him for past damage, and just do it because I love him, now.”

“Better.” Mia nodded. “And then it says here that Cas caught the light in your soul on film?”

“Yeah. It was a little freaky. It looked like the camera had somehow had a bad flash, even though Cas hadn’t used the flash attachment. Like the film somehow got overexposed, even though it was a digital shot on his cell phone camera. It was weird.”

“And yet, Cas doesn’t seem to be concerned.”

“He’s not, and I’m glad of that, but it doesn’t completely relieve my mind, y’know?”

“Sure. It’s a weird experience, and it’s happening to you, not to him.”

“Exactly! Cas has, well, glowed before. But he’s an angel, he’s _supposed_ to glow. I’m human. I’m _not_.”

“So, you think his lack of concern is a failure of empathy, that he doesn’t understand your concerns as a human?”

“Well… no. Maybe? It’s not that he doesn’t care. He knows that I’m concerned, and he understands why. I just think that he feels my concern is a little overblown, and maybe _that’s_ an unintentional failure of empathy.”

“He understands that you _are_ concerned, but not _why_ you’re as concerned as you are?”

“Yeah, I think that’s more it.”

“Do you feel that he blew you off about it?”

“No. He cares that I’m freaked, and he understands why I’m freaked, he just doesn’t agree that I need to be freaked. He doesn’t blow me off about being freaked, he just wants me to be less freaked.”

Mia laughed. “And the award for ‘most uses of the word “freaked” in a single sentence’ goes to….”

Dean laughed as well. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

Mia nodded. “No, I get that, Dean. I’d be ‘freaked’ as well if I was glowing and it showed up on film.” She continued to read. “And then you write here that you and Cas went to bed, and he tied you to the bed, at your request. You seem to have been comfortable with that experience, from the way you’ve described it here; it sounds like the two of you were just having some fun, and he was being responsible and checking in with you consistently. But given what you’ve told me about your experiences in Hell, with being raped and used sexually repeatedly, I need to check - _were_ you okay? Did this trigger you, at all, Dean?”

“Well… I didn’t think so, at the time. But after… well, I write about it. I had a dream, Mia. I was back in Hell. And that’s what I wondered, at the time. Whether - even though I enjoyed what Cas and I did - whether it had triggered my subconscious to remember those other experiences, that I _didn’t_ enjoy. And if that’s the case, then I _need_ to get past that, Mia. Because I want to enjoy whatever Cas and I decide to do. I have, so far, and I want to continue. I don’t want to be afraid of being with him in _any_ way we choose to be together, I want it all. I’m gettin’ a little greedy in my old age, here.” Dean grinned.

“Well, let me read on, here, then, since you say you wrote about the dream.” Mia continued to read. “This bit here is a little disturbing, Dean. You write that Alastair had you on the rack, and he told you that he’s dead, so the only way he can affect you is when you come to him in your dreams, and then he intimates that you’ve done so, previously. You write that he told you that ‘You want the pain, Dean. You crave it. You need it. I put that need in you, and it has never diminished. Oh, you can resist it, for a while. And when you start to actively seek it out, Castiel tries to shepherd you away from it. And he succeeds, for a while. But you always end up back here, eventually. Of course, he soothes you, wipes away the memory of the ‘bad dream,’ sometimes even before you awaken. But you always come back, Dean.’ Have you had dreams of Alastair before, Dean, that you can remember? Did you ask Castiel if he had been preventing such dreams, or removing the memories of them?”

“No, I don’t have active memories of dreams of Alastair like this one, other than the one we’ve already talked about, this one, and the one that happened the next night, which is coming up - beyond those three, no. I have no memory of dreams of Alastair.

“But, just so you understand, Mia - Cas doesn’t remove my bad memories just because they’re bad. That’s why I have multiple sets of memories from before Hell; Cas didn’t want to do damage by removing memories that could have been real, even where it was clear that Alastair had to have implanted at least one alternate memory, unless it was clearly a fake because obvious details were wrong. He didn’t want to remove Lisa and Ben’s memories of me, either; he only did so to protect them, when I begged him to do so, and he didn’t like it, then. He wouldn’t remove memories of a dream, no matter how bad it was. No, I don’t even need to ask Cas about that. 

“But occasionally shepherding me away from that part of my memories while I slept? Yeah, that sounds like something Cas might have done on his own, to protect me. And if he did, I’d have to say ‘thank you’ to him for it.”

“Alastair says you want pain, Dean. Is he right? Are you a masochist?” Mia asked.

“No. If anything, I... I might be a sadist. I’ve tortured people - not in a fun sexy way, I don’t do it for the sexual rush or anything like that - but I’ve done it, and I’ve enjoyed it. That’s discussed later, as well. But wanting pain? No. 

“Now, when I was Alastair’s sex slave, I did beg to be punished. But oddly, it was because I _didn’t_ want him to hurt me. I wanted him to be gentle, but he’d told me up front he’d only be kind if I didn’t fail him. So _when_ I failed him, I asked to be punished, so I wouldn’t fail him _again_. It’s a twisty kind of logic. Of course, he was setting me up to fail, so it didn’t work out, but he’s a demon; demons lie.”

“It is, indeed, a twisty logic, Dean, but I follow it. ‘If you do A, you get treated nicely. If you do B, you get punished. You do B, so you beg to be punished so you’ll remember not to do B again next time. So that next time, you’ll do A, and get treated nicely.’ Except that with Alastair, actually doing A wasn’t really ever a possibility, correct?” Mia clarified.

“Right. With Alastair, there were an infinite number of possible ways to do B, but I could never manage to do A, because A wasn’t possible. It was deliberate, intentional. There was no way to ever qualify for the nice treatment.”

“So, when you begged for pain, you weren’t actually asking for pain, _per se_.”

“Correct. I was asking for a way to remember how to _not_ get pain again _the next time_.”

“Dean, do you believe that you still belong to Alastair?” Mia asked.

“No. Alastair is dead. Even if I were to die this afternoon and go back to Hell, he wouldn’t be there. He’s in the Empty. That’s where demons go when they die. And although I’ve been a demon, I’m not one, now. Cas has checked and rechecked to be sure. So I can’t go to the Empty, and there’s no way for Alastair to actually have any claim over me.”

“But that isn’t technically what I asked you, Dean. I didn’t ask you if you _do_ belong to Alastair, or if there were any way for Alastair to assert some kind of claim over you, now. I asked if _you believe_ that you still belong to him. And what I mean by that is this - is there some part of you that - subconsciously, maybe - thinks that because you gave yourself to Alastair in the beginning, willingly, of your own volition and by your own choice, that his claim was somehow valid, and, because it was then supposed to be for eternity, now remains so?”

Dean considered that. “Maybe? I mean, no, I don’t think that, actively. But maybe subconsciously? I.. I don’t know. Maybe that’s what the dream was trying to tell me?”

“Let’s look at that ‘actively’ versus ‘subconsciously’ notion, Dean. Do you believe, actively, that you belong to anyone at all?” Mia asked.

“Well, yeah, kinda. Cas. Not in the same way, obviously; Cas would never… but yeah, I think I belong to Cas. And Cas belongs to me.”

“But not in an _ownership_ kind of way, just as in a healthy relationship, partnership way, correct?”

“Correct.” Dean nodded.

“Anyone else that you’ve ever felt that you _belonged_ to, Dean?”

Dean looked confused. “I… I don’t think so. I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mia.”

“Well, let me ask you this, Dean. When you and Sam were growing up, why did you take what John dished out - assuming, for the sake of argument here, for the moment, that all of your memories, including the ones we know to have been implanted and false, were real - why did you never stand up to your father and just say, ‘no’, Dean?”

“Because I couldn’t.”

“Why not? You said in an earlier session that you ‘were never the rebellious one - that was Sam.’ I have it in my notes, here. If Sam could rebel, Dean, why couldn’t you?” Mia pushed a little.

“Because I couldn’t. Sam could rebel because Sam was the golden child who did no wrong, who was to be protected at all costs, the smart one, the good one. I was just….”

“You were just… what, Dean?”

“I was just the good little soldier... I was… I wasn’t even human. I was... a robot.”

“A robot that your father programmed… and owned?”

Dean nodded. “Christ.”

“Dean, the reason I told you to assume for the moment that the false memories were all real, is because when you made the choice to become Alastair’s slave and get down off the rack, those memories _were_ real, to you. You have to look at your decisions then in the state of mind you were in, then, or they don’t make sense. And with those memories in place, your decisions make perfect sense. But, looking back on it now, with what you _know_ , now - that those memories _aren’t_ real, or at least, some of them aren’t - would you make that same choice, now, today?”

“No.”

“Not even if you were back on the rack?”

“No.”

“You held out for thirty years, in Hell’s time, correct?”

Dean nodded.

“You were on the rack longer than you’d been alive. It took that long for Alastair to condition you into making a decision you would _never_ have made otherwise. And he simply built upon the conditioning that your father had begun. Because your father _did_ neglect you, did make you raise Sam, correct?”

Dean nodded again. “He did. Dad conditioned me to obey, to take the abuse, to do what needed to be done. And Alastair just built on that. Took it much further, obviously, but he built on Dad’s foundation.”

“What about Sam, Dean? Has Sam ever done anything, said anything, to make you feel that same way, that you belonged to him, that you were a piece of property, rather than a family member?”

“No. Sam and I have had fights, but… Wait.”

“What are you thinking of, Dean?”

“Well, do you remember, did I tell you about the period of time where Sam was soulless, after Cas rescued him from the Cage?”

“A little, yes.” Mia nodded.

“There was this one time, where Sam arrived at the end of the alley where I was being attacked by a vamp, and instead of coming to my rescue right away, he let the vamp turn me, in order to be able to use me as a way to track the Alpha Vampire. It wasn’t something Sam would have done with his soul intact, but he didn’t have his soul, and yeah, that made me feel that same way. But it wasn’t Sam’s fault.”

“No, I understand, Dean. But it was something that happened to you, where, once again, someone made you feel like a thing, rather than a person. You were just bait, something to be used. Correct?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. But that was after I came back from Hell.”

Mia nodded. “True, but no less relevant _here and now_. Your subconscious mind has been conditioned - trained, over decades of abuse from your father, and Alastair, and at least that one incident with Sam - to believe that you are property, Dean. Alastair staked a claim on you. You needed him to have that claim, in order to cope in Hell, because you needed to believe that there would be someone who might treat you well. And I don’t think your subconscious mind has ever let that go.”

Dean scrubbed his hand slowly over his face. “Yeah. I get it.”

“So, now, you have to retrain your mind, Dean.”

“How do I do that, Mia?”

“You tell me, Dean.” Mia gave Dean a soft smile. “How do you think you replace, essentially, sixty years’ worth of training?”

“With different training.”

“Correct. Your relationship with Cas. You consider yourself a partner, of equal merit, to Castiel?”

Dean sighed. “I see where you’re going with this.”

Mia grinned. “I bet you do.”

“I can’t retrain my mind to accept that I’m fully human, not merely a piece of property, but an actual person, with the _rights_ of a person, who _deserves_ good things, unless I actually _believe_ it.”

“Dean, don’t ever let anyone tell you Sam’s the only smart brother. You ask me here, at the end of this journal entry, ‘how do I exorcise an already dead demon from my psyche?’ This is how, Dean. By realizing what you did think, and changing that to what you want to think, instead. Your relationship with Cas is a very healthy one, Dean. The things that you tell me, that you write in your journal, about it are the healthiest thoughts you’ve expressed to me. So, start there. As we already discussed, stop thinking about how to make up the past damage to Cas. I am telling you, and I am willing to bet that Cas would say the same, that the past damage is now irrelevant, and continuing to dwell on it is only doing you further harm. You are Castiel’s equal in this relationship, Dean. You are his fiancé, and you will be his husband, because he loves you. He trusts you, and he believes in you. Now, you have to trust and believe in yourself, as well.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I may not be a Seraph, but I am Cas’ equal _in this relationship_.”

“Correct.”

“Yeah. I can do that, Mia. I can believe and accept that. It’s the ‘ _in this relationship_ ’ part that gets me over the hump, but yeah. That works.”

Mia nodded. “You can see the sense of it. You _are_ the equal of Cas in your relationship with him. He doesn’t try to put you in a subservient position to him, or, if he does, you stand up to him and tell him that he’s wrong to do so. We talked about an example of that just earlier today, Dean.”

“When I said that when he wasn’t listening to me, I pointed it out, and made him listen, about the suggestion of looking for Joshua. Yeah. I see what you’re saying, Mia.”

“Excellent, Dean. That’s real progress. I’m so proud of you.”

Dean blushed again, but he was concentrating on something else. “So, when I tell Cas that I don’t want him haring off on his own, and he stops doing that, and seeks consensus before moving with a plan… that’s part of this, too, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Dean, it is. Cas is actively finding ways to put the two of you on the same level in the relationship. Now, he may not realize that’s what he’s doing, may not be doing it for that reason - but it has the same affect, absolutely.”

“I get it. I see it. Mia, I see it!”

Mia grinned. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Tons of progress, on really deep, important stuff, here! SO PROUD OF DEAN!
> 
> Please comment!! Let me know if you're as proud of our boy as I am! ;)


	194. Dean's Fifth Session With Mia, Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's therapy session continues.

Mia turned the page. “Ah, and here’s your next letter - in this one, you’re writing to your 15-year-old self. You got arrested for stealing food for Sam, and then sent to a boy’s home because John was angry that you got caught?” Mia’s voice rose slightly at the end.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. He wasn’t upset that we’d run out of food, or that I’d tried to steal some. He was pissed that I got caught.”

“How long were you there?”

“A few months. It was okay. It was really good, actually. I really liked Sonny, the guy who ran the place. In fact, I would’ve stayed, if not for...well, read the letter, you’ll see.” Dean went back to staring at his hands.

Mia returned to the letter. “Oh. Oh, Dean. You write here that Sonny invited you to stay permanently, telling you he’d fight for you, fight John for you, because he believed in you. And then John showed up, just as you were getting ready to take your girl to the dance, and, of course, John insisted you leave with him, instead - and you saw Sam sitting in the backseat of John’s car, and you didn’t know where he’d been, if he’d eaten, if he was okay, and you realized that if you didn’t go with them, right then, John wouldn’t come back, and you’d never know, so you lied to Sonny for the first time, telling him you wanted to go. Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Typical of John, y’know?” Dean, who had been excited only a few moments before, now seemed lifeless, his eyes downcast, his shoulders slumping.

“Ah, and here, you say you did stand up to John, for once, and that there are four memories that you have of how he reacted to what you said to him. You told him that he couldn’t be gone for that long, couldn’t leave you with inadequate funds and food, and if he wanted you to keep Sam safe, he had to give you the means to do so. All reasonable, Dean. Absolutely minimum standard, I agree. But it appears John may not have. 

“You write here that John told you one of the four following things: one, that he did agree, and, going forward, he made sure to leave enough cash or to at least check in every couple of days; two, John said that it’s not his fault, you should have been a better thief, and then he backhanded you, knocked you down, and beats you with his belt; three, John told you that if you wanted more cash, there were many ways that you could make money, then took you to a bar and pimped you out to a trucker for $50, but at least the guy didn’t hurt you. 

“Now, you write that you have reason to believe that all three of those reaction memories are false. The first one, there’s no way John actually left enough cash or checked in on you often enough, and while you can’t imagine why Alastair gave you a false memory where John was good, it just doesn’t seem real. The second one doesn’t feel right to you for reasons previously discussed, primarily because Sam doesn’t recall John ever having been physically abusive, beyond the neglect. The third one doesn’t feel right to you because John, in your other memories, was homophobic. That all seems to be in line with what we’ve discussed, Dean. 

“So the fourth option is that John told you there were ways for you to make money, and then taught you how to hustle pool, and you say here that you think this is most likely because you know that John did, at some point, teach you how to hustle pool, and then you turned around and taught Sam. And I agree that this does sound like the most likely choice.

“You write here that at some point, perhaps it would be a good idea for me to hypnotize you and see which one is correct. That might be a good idea, at some point, Dean, but we still have quite a bit to get through today, yes?”

“Yeah, we don’t have to do that right now, Mia.” Dean’s voice was getting quieter; his cheeks, which had been flushed just moments ago, were now pale. 

“Dean? Are you all right?” Mia asked, concerned.

Dean just nodded, listlessly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s just keep going, okay?”

Mia gave it another second, before returning to reading the journal. “All right.

“The next thing here is your daily journal entry, and you write, ‘It sounds odd to say, but I don’t miss being out on the road. I’m ready for something new. I think that restoring the vintage cars that the Men of Letters had here, and the inventory that Bobby had on hand at the Yard, could be that. It’ll take work, but it’s work I know how to do. I think settling down with Cas, and splitting our time between here and Sioux Falls, could be really good for us. Sam can keep doing research, and keep track of the hunters’ network, without going out himself. And maybe once in a while, we can do a hunt still. But we’re getting up there, and maybe it’s just time to hang it up and be safe. How many times are we supposed to save the world, after all? We averted the Apocalypse. We talked Cas down from being God. We got rid of the Leviathans. We killed Abaddon. We got Amara under control. We got rid of Apocalypse World’s Michael. We’ve done enough. Haven’t we?’ Well, Dean, I’d say yes, myself. Do you have doubts about it?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you noticed the crap that’s happened these past few days?” Dean suddenly flushed bright red again, and started ranting.

“We have alternate universes bleeding through into this one, people going missing between universes, and we don’t know why or how widespread the problem is. Cas and Balthazar and Gabriel have been kind of roaming the countryside fixing the bleed-through spots as they find them, but they can only do so much, and they can’t go too far without chancing ending up in another universe themselves. 

“The clocks all stopped working, and we don’t know why; time itself isn’t frozen, but we can’t measure it, and we don’t know how to fix it. 

“Apparently, the Cosmic Entity isn’t in the Empty anymore, he’s down in Hell, terrorizing Rowena (who is, by the way, Queen of Hell, we’ve confirmed, now), and we don’t know what he wants, why he’s there, or what he’ll do next. 

“Chuck has been apparently playing vessel to God for the past ten years, and God’s been playing it like Chuck _was_ God, and we had no idea, until God suddenly left the vessel for parts unknown the other day, and now Chuck’s hiding out in the Bunker, and we don’t know if we’ve warded it sufficiently to keep him safe, but today, when I drove out to come here, I had to leave the garage open because the Bunker now can’t be seen from the outside - at all. Jack couldn’t get in when he came home this morning, and he’s the single most powerful being we know of - potentially even stronger than God - and we don’t know how that happened, who did it, or why. Was it to keep us in, or to keep someone else out? 

“Yeah, there’s a lot going on, Mia, don’t know if you’d noticed, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it, but everyone keeps looking to me for answers, and I don’t have any!” Dean suddenly sputtered to a stop, breathing heavily.

Mia took a slow breath in and out. “Dean, apparently it’s been quite a week. I had noticed that my clocks had stopped, but I didn’t realize that all clocks had stopped, I just thought I needed to buy some new batteries.”

Dean smiled slowly, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mia. I don’t know where that came from.”

“Sounds like you’re stressed out, and trying not to show it. Dean, do you think that you bear personal responsibility for fixing the problems you just listed?”

“No. And there probably isn’t a damn thing I can do about any of them, either. But I do feel like I’m the head of the team, and people are looking to me to lead, and I have no clue what I’m doing.”

Mia nodded. “Okay. Do you want to talk about that, or continue to go through the journal? Because I’m assuming that you’ve written about all of these things, and we’ll get to all of them, eventually, but if the pace is too slow for you, we can skip ahead, if you want.”

Dean sighed. “No, it’s fine, I said we should go in order, and we should. I just… lost it for a minute there. I apologize, Mia.”

“That’s perfectly all right, Dean. Let’s go back to the book, then, shall we?” Mia waited for Dean’s nod, before looking back at the pages.

“So, the next thing here is your letter to yourself at 26-27, about how you came to Stanford to ask Sam to help you find John, and he ended up getting back into hunting because his girl died in a fire suspiciously like the one in which your mother died - right down to the date.”

“Yeah, we found out later that was not a coincidence. Sam had a friend at Stanford, Brady. Brady got possessed by a demon who worked for Azazel, during their sophomore year, and he’s the one who killed Jess and made it look like Mom’s death, on Azazel’s orders. All part of the plan, I guess.”

Mia nodded. “Okay. The letter follows the events you two lived through for the next few months without a lot of detail, until you finally find John again in Chicago. And then you’re surprised by how loving he seems.”

“Yeah, almost suspected he was possessed for a second. Later, he _did_ get possessed, and the slight differences between how he was in Chicago compared to how he was then were what tipped me off.”

“And then you’ve got kind of an extended metaphor about the crumbs of affection that John occasionally gave you, versus the ‘whole loaf’ that you have in your relationship with Cas, now. It’s a good metaphor, Dean.”

“Kinda goes along with what we were talking about before, how my relationship with Cas is a healthy one, a good one.”

“It does, yes.” Mia looked back at the page. “You say here that you ‘see now how stand-offish Dad always was to me, so getting an actual hug? Being told that he didn’t want us to be hurt, and that of course he worried about us? It felt fucking amazing. But where was the concern all the times he got drunk and left it to me to raise Sammy? Where was the worry when he left us alone for weeks on end? Yup, I’m still angry, still conflicted.’ But then, at the end, you say that you think that ‘Dad actually did love both of you. I think he tried his best, but his best sometimes just wasn’t enough. So, I think you, then, and I, now, need to try to remember that he did try, and just let all of the other crap go. His neglect shaped me, but it didn’t break me.’ Which doesn’t sound very conflicted, at all, Dean. It sounds like you’re starting to forgive John. Are you?”

“Maybe. A little. I mean, some of what he did is kind of unforgivable. But if I don’t forgive him, then I can’t get past it. And I really want to get past it, Mia. I have to let it go. So, I’m trying. I’m trying to find ways, not to excuse it, but to maybe look at things from Dad’s perspective, a little, and see how maybe he was just trying to do his best. His best may not have been that good, but if that was the most that he could manage, then it’s not his fault. And I survived it, and so did Sammy, and we’re good, now, so, why stay pissed? It’s easier to let it go. Being angry takes too much energy that can be better used on other things.” Dean looked uncomfortable, but clearly believed what he was saying, so Mia just nodded.

“Okay. And next is your daily entry, where you talk about the next night’s dream, again of Alastair in that room in your memory palace. And he makes the same claims, essentially, as the night before, with a few new twists here and there. This bit about Sam being a powerful psychic even without demon blood is new, though; at least, it’s new to me. Can you tell me about that, Dean?”

“Yeah. Ruby - I told you about her, before, Mia; demon chick? anyway - Ruby told Sam that, right after Sam used his powers to kill Lillith, which broke the sixty-sixth seal, and freed Lucifer from the Cage. She told him that ‘It wasn't the blood. It was you... and your choices. I just gave you the options, and you chose the right path every time. You didn't need the feather to fly, you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo.’ And what she meant, Sam tells me, is that he was always a powerful psychic, even without the demon blood. It didn’t give him more power, it just gave him the confidence to actually _use_ the power he already had. Even when Azazel first gave him a little bit of the blood, the night that Mom died, that was just to wake up the powers, give them a nudge. But they were already there, just lying dormant.”

“Okay. And Alastair asserts here that Sam could use his powers to kill _you_. Could he?”

“Probably. But so far as I know, he’s never used them to kill a person. In fact, the whole reason Ruby was able to manipulate him into trying to use his powers at all was that he thought that he could save people. See, we have a demon blade, which he actually also got from Ruby, which sends a demon back to Hell like an exorcism, but while it almost always works, it also kills the poor guy the demon chose to possess. Sam’s powers, though, essentially yank the demon out of the vessel and control the demon so it can’t just smoke out and escape - it has to go back to Hell. Eventually, Sam got strong enough that he could kill the demons with his mind and send them, not to Hell, but to the Empty. He killed Alastair that way, and Lillith, too. Sometimes the vessel’s real inhabitant was already dead when he yanked the demon out of them, but sometimes, he could save them by using his powers. So, Sam probably _could_ kill a person, including me, if he was of a mind to do so. But it’s more likely that he would never try. Sam’s done violent things, but not to people, Mia. Usually, he’s really pretty gentle.”

Mia nodded, and looked back at the journal. “You write, ‘So, Mia, why did I keep thinking it’s okay to turn right at that hallway intersection? Why did I keep wanting to do so? If I just turned left, it wouldn’t be an issue – I wouldn’t get to that door, wouldn’t feel so curious about what was going on inside that open doorway that I can’t see through. And why is there an intersection at all? What’s up ahead, if I chose to just go straight? Why turn at all? From what Cas told me about Sam’s memory palace, it was all just one long corridor, except where an area had been carved out for Sam’s memories of The Cage – that was the only intersection. Do all memories of Hell rate an intersection? Did that mean going straight, or to the left – one or the other – would get me to my memories of Purgatory, and Benny? It would be good to see Benny again. Though not necessarily to have to go back to Purgatory to do it. I realized that my own subconscious couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, but it could reveal things that I’d hidden from myself, things I’d forgotten or repressed. That’s when I thought that I better write out as much detail as possible – what I did, what I saw, what Alastair said, and then go back through it, and try to figure out what my dream was trying to tell me to remember, figuring that if I remembered enough, maybe I wouldn’t have to go through any more of it.’

“Well, unfortunately, Dean, I don’t know that I have answers to any of those questions. We might be able to find some of them under hypnosis, but this is something that I don’t think I’d feel comfortable doing without Cas being present, in case something happened and you needed help. If you got sucked into Hell, for example, even under hypnosis, I might not be able to bring you out of it. So, maybe we could look into those questions during a session where Cas comes with you? Does that sound like a good idea to you, Dean?”

“Sure. I trust Cas. I trust you, for that matter, but I get what you’re saying, Mia.” Dean smiled at her, and she felt like maybe he was coming back out of the odd funk he’d sunk into so rapidly for a bit there. She smiled back.

“And here, you let Cas drive, and that made him happy. And then you reminded him that once the two of you are married, he’ll own half the car, and you say that he hadn’t realized that marrying you would have some tangible benefit. And so you told him that whatever you have is his to share, and you write here that you meant it and there wasn’t anything you have that you wouldn’t willingly give to Cas, but then giving to others has never been your problem, it’s learning how to take for yourself. So, Dean, tell me. Are you learning to take things for yourself, now?”

“I took Cas, didn’t I?” Dean grinned. “I took Cas, and his love, and I intend to keep them. And honestly, I don’t know that I need a whole lot more than that, Mia.”

“Fair enough. But then you say here that not having allowed Cas to drive your car before this is just ‘one more reason to feel guilty.’ After what we’ve talked about today, Dean, is that still how you feel about that?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good boy.” Mia grinned at him. “Okay, that gets us up to Friday evening. I’m going to suggest something new here, Dean. Let’s take a short break. Why don’t you go outside for a minute, get some fresh air. I’m going to use the bathroom, and you can, too, when you come back, and then we’ll get started again. I just feel that we’ve been going for a while, and we could both use a little space from some of the heavy topics we’ve been covering today, but I do want to note that you’re doing really well, Dean.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I could use a little air. I’ll be back in a few.” Dean rose from the couch and headed for the door. Mia slipped her cell phone into her pocket unobtrusively, and headed for the bathroom.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of progress. So much progress!  
> Dean had a little bit of an explosion there, we'll have to see if we find out what got into him, there. Probably a good idea to take a break, given how long these sessions tend to run (three hours per session, Mia has said), and that he seems so tense.  
> Who do you think Mia intends to call? Or is she just checking social media or playing a game on her phone? ;)
> 
> Two chapters in a day! You're welcome! LOL
> 
> Please comment!!!!!!! ;D


	195. A Short Break from Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets some air and a granola bar. Mia makes a call. Shann takes a call for Dean. Donna calls Clark and Billy into her office to reward them. Jack and Cas chat.

Dean walked outside, and over to where the Impala was parked. He put his hands on Baby’s roof, and leaned forward, eyes closed, until his forehead touched the top of the rear door. 

_This shit is hard_.

He was trying to hold it together, but the dreams of Hell had been hard to get through just having them. Then he’d had to write about them, then speak with Cas about them, and now, here he was, having to talk about them again, with Mia. While he knew that was just how it had to be, and it helped that Mia wasn’t at all judgmental about what he’d done - what he’d had to do - in Hell, it was still making him vaguely nauseated. It didn’t help that he’d skipped breakfast, spent most of the morning cooking, then taken so long writing and meeting with Sam, Cas, and Gabe, that he’d had to skip lunch as well. He opened the car door, and slid into the driver’s seat, leaned across to open the glove compartment, and rummaged around, looking for… yes, it _was_ still here… a granola bar, not too old, still in its original wrapper. Dean opened it, sniffed at it, shrugged, and took a bite. Getting anything into his stomach at this point would help. He sat there for a few moments, chewing and swallowing carefully, and tried not to think about… anything, really. 

Granola bar finished, he shoved the wrapper into his jacket pocket for later disposal, and climbed back out of the car, closing the door behind him. 

He rubbed his eyes, and slid his fingers down his nose, then took a deep breath. He let it out slowly as he walked back toward Mia’s office door.

***

Mia locked the bathroom door. She braced her hands on the edge of the sink, and looked in the mirror. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, then washed her hands and dried them on a small towel. She turned, and leaned back against the sink, took out her cell phone, found the number she needed in her contacts list, and hit the button to dial. 

_Dammit, voice mail_.

She waited impatiently for the beep. “Hey, it’s me. I’m not doing it today. I just don’t think it’s the right time, and he’s not at the right place, mentally. As it is, I had to send him outside for a break and some fresh air, because he was getting pale and listless. Maybe next week, maybe not, I’ll just have to see how it goes. Just thought you should know.” She ended the call, and slid the phone back into her pocket.

She turned toward the mirror again, gave herself a soft smile to cover any trace of anxiety that might have remained, and left the bathroom.

***

Jack had been welcomed back enthusiastically, even when he’d given Gabe and Cas the message from Dean about the warding and told them about his experience with not being able to get inside until Dean drove him into the garage. Gabe had finalized the lunch buffet without Dean, and everyone had gotten a full stomach. Then Cas and Sam took Jack off to hear about his time away with his friends, and to catch him up on what had been going on. Shann had returned to the library, wanting to push hard through the afternoon on finishing the translation of the epilogue, so he could give a report to Sam about what he’d discovered, along with his notes and the finished translation work. Balthazar and Hannah had taken their turn cleaning up after lunch, and Gabe, Chuck, and Kathy had gone on a tour of the Bunker.

Thus, when the hunter’s network phone rang in the library, Shann was the only one around, and he’d picked it up. Only hunters were supposed to have that number; they weren’t supposed to give it out to civilians. So, Shann was surprised when, instead of a hunter looking for Sam, it was a woman, nervously asking if this was the number to reach Dean Winchester.

“Well, it is, but he’s not here right now. Can I take a message?” Shann asked, politely. He knew Sam would likely take the head off whoever it was that had given the woman this number, but it wasn’t her fault. 

“Um… I guess. Look, it’s kind of a weird situation,” the woman said.

“Well, if you know Dean, then you know that’s kind of what he specializes in. Look, can I get your name and number and have Dean call you back when he returns? He’ll be back later today.”

“Sure, yeah, I guess that’ll work. Okay. So, my name is Lilah, Lilah Stinson. Now, he won’t know _me_ , but you tell him that I’m Anne Marie’s sister. He might remember _her_. Anne Marie Stinson. Okay? But he needs to call _me_ , and my number is 701-555-4424. I’ll give you that again, it’s 701-555-4424. Okay? Lilah Stinson, 701-555-4424, I’m the sister of Anne Marie Stinson. And if he could call me back as soon as possible, I’d… well, I’d _really_ appreciate it.”

“Okay. Did you want to tell me what it’s about, or…?” Shann asked.

“Just… just have him call me. Please. It’s… it’s important. I wouldn’t bother him, elsewise. I just… I just don’t know what else to do.” Lilah’s voice trailed off.

“Okay. Here, let me read this back quick so you know I got it. 'Lilah Stinson, sister of Anne Marie Stinson, called. Please call her back ASAP, 701-555-4424.' That’s what I wrote down. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay. Have a nice afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah. You… you too. Thanks.” Lilah ended the call, and Shann shook his head. 

“Weird,” he commented to himself. “Wonder what that’s about.” He put the written message in Dean’s inbox. Then he went back to finishing the translation, and within moments had forgotten the call completely.

***

Donna entered the station, found Billy and Clark, and asked them to accompany her to her office for a moment. They followed her in, and she closed the door. 

“Gee, Donna, are you okay? We didn’t like leaving you alone, but we had to take Doug to be booked.” Clark looked his boss over with a concerned eye. 

“Yeah, Donna, we probably should’ve had someone come out to sit with you, huh?” Billy asked, looking a little ashamed that he hadn’t thought of it at the time.

Donna grinned. “Sorry, were you boys under the impression that you were in trouble? You’re not. I called you in here to give you these.” She handed them each an envelope. “I got one for Sally, in dispatch, too. And you’re all getting official commendations in your files, too.”

“Um, Donna, what’s this for?” Clark asked, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “We didn’t do anything special.”

“No? And here I thought you had responded appropriately, as trained, in a stressful situation, to defuse a potentially dangerous conflict with an armed officer who had let his emotions get the better of him. You both know that could have gone a lot of different ways, most of’em bad. But it didn’t, because you were calm, treated Doug just right, and got him out of my face and my house, and into hand cuffs without the situation escalating. I say you both did a really super job, and so you deserve the commendations, and these” - indicating the envelopes - “are a special thank you, just from me personally, rather than the department. Because you boys saved me. You know you did. Doug was out of it, and might even have been on something, the way he acted all confused at the end, there. So, yah. Anyhoo. It’s nothing big, just something I thought you’d like. But go on, go on, open it up!”

They each opened their envelopes, and found a card, and inside the card, a gift certificate to the local steakhouse in an amount sufficient to cover their meal and their date’s meal for a good-sized date night dinner.

“Aw, Donna, you didn’t have to do that,” Billy told her. 

“I wanted to. Now you go on, call your wives, tell’em you’re going out on Friday night.” Donna shooed them out of her office, and sank into her chair, a soft smile still on her face.

***

“It was fun being away with my friends for a few days, but it’s really good to be home, Dad,” Jack told Castiel. 

“It’s good to have you home, Jack. I have something I want to raise with you, if that’s all right.” 

“Sure, Dad. What’s up?” Jack asked, eagerly.

“Well, you know how Sam has Lucifer and Michael in his head. And we told you how Billie and I found another Lucifer in the Empty, and brought him back with us, and now I’m sharing a vessel with him.”

“Right. And you said that neither version of him is corrupted by The Mark any more, and I don’t have to be afraid of him, and that’s good. What about it?” Jack asked.

“Well, the Lucifer that I’m sharing a vessel with, I’m able to speak with him, and he with me, and he asked me to pass on a request from him. And Gabe, Dean, Sam, and I discussed it, and we agreed to put it to you. So this is one hundred percent your decision, Jack, and whichever way you go on it, we will support you. Okay?”

Jack nodded, a touch more somber than he had been before. “Okay, Dad.”

“Okay. The Lucifer in here,” Cas said, indicating himself, “asked if he could be allowed to speak with you. He knows that you are not his biggest fan, he knows that he made some missteps with you before, but he was corrupted by The Mark then, and had been for millennia. He says he wants to change, and, because we’re sharing a vessel, he and I are mind-to-mind right now, and he cannot lie to me, it isn’t possible, so I can tell you that it’s true. He does want to change, and he has been trying very hard to, well, be good, since we brought him back. 

“Now, when we talked about it, we decided that we were okay with it, except for one thing. And that’s the fact that he’s agreed to let me drive the vessel, but I’d have to let him come forward in order to speak directly with you. So, if you agree to speak with him, we’d like for your Uncle Gabriel to be present, just in case. 

“The other thing is that once you’ve spoken with the Lucifer in here,” again indicating himself, “the Lucifer in Sam’s head is going to want to speak with you, too. And we thought of a way to do that, which is that Gabe would take you into Sam’s memory palace while Sam is sleeping, so you could sit down with that Lucifer for a chat, again, with Gabe present. Now, you don’t have to speak with either of them if you don’t want to. If you decide you do want to, you can end the conversation at any time, and no one will think less of you. You don’t have to decide right now, either, you can think about it, and let me know….”

“I don’t need to think about it, Dad. I don’t want to speak with either Lucifer. Ever. Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.” Jack stood and left the room abruptly. 

Cas sighed softly. “Okay. Sorry, Luce.”

_“Not your fault, Cassie. It’s mine. I’m the one who screwed up.”_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, perhaps Dean's blood sugar was low; that can make you pale and listless. Hmm.  
> Who's Mia calling, do you think? And what is it that she isn't doing today? Hmm...  
> Who's Lilah Stinson, and what's that phone message for Dean all about? Hmmm.......  
> Donna's such a cutie, isn't she? ;D  
> Aw, poor Lucy. Jack's not having it... at least, not yet. *sigh* 
> 
> No art, still. More coming soon, though. :)
> 
> Please comment!! I need proof of life on you guys, need to know you're still out there, and COVID hasn't gotten you! Check in! :)


	196. Dean's Fifth Session With Mia, Pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia and Dean return to Mia's office to continue the session.

Dean came back into the building just as Mia was leaving the bathroom.

“Hello, Dean. Feel free to use the restroom, if you need it.”

“Actually, could I trouble you for some water, Mia? I ate a granola bar, kinda need to wash it down, here.”

“Of course, I’ll get a bottle from the kitchen for you. Go on in, have a seat.” Mia turned and went into her kitchen, getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator before returning to her office, where Dean had reseated himself on the couch.

“Here you are.” Mia handed him the bottle, and took her own seat, picking the journal back up, and glancing at the most recent entry they’d covered, to remind herself where they’d left off.

“Hey, Mia?” Dean asked, quietly.

“Yes, Dean?” Mia looked up, and smiled, gently.

“Before we get back into my journal, I wanted to ask you, about Cas coming in for a combined session? Is that because you think that I’m so screwed up that you need him to keep an eye on me, or because the two of us together need to work on our relationship, or because you think he might need therapy, too, or… something else, altogether? I’m not objecting to any of that, it all sounds - well, probable, actually. I’m just wondering.”

Mia laughed lightly. “You mentioned that Cas has read part or all of your journal, and you’ve said that Cas might know you better than literally anyone else on the planet. You’ve said he’s given you insights into yourself. In addition, your relationship with Castiel is, by all accounts, oral and written, the most healthy relationship you’ve ever been in, and perhaps the only one in which you are an actively equal partner. Cas seems to have an almost innate knowledge of how to handle you, most of the time; he calmed your panic attack, and the ‘one new thing’ policy was his idea. And you have to wonder why I might want to meet him?” 

Dean grinned. “Fair.”

“Dean, I don’t actually think you’re ‘screwed up’ at all. I think you’ve had some rather nasty experiences, many of which most people would not have been able to handle at all, much less with as much grace and strength as you’ve displayed. This is only your fifth session with me, but you’ve made tremendous progress already - and I am taking no credit for that, other than for introducing you to journaling. You are doing all the work, here. 

“Whether or not Castiel needs individual therapy would be up to Castiel. I certainly would not be averse to talking with him if he wanted to come in, but I have no idea if that would be something he might want or feel a need to do. I don’t believe that you’ve described him as someone with a myriad of psychological problems, desperate for time on a therapist’s couch?” Mia quirked up an eyebrow.

Dean laughed as her voice went up into a question at the end. He shook his head. “Nah. Cas doesn’t always get the joke or the pop culture reference, but he’s solid.”

Mia nodded. “I might be able to give the two of you together some pointers for how to deal with one another in your relationship, but you actually seem to be handling that yourselves very well.”

Dean agreed. “Yeah. We’re doing all right.”

“Okay, then. Back to the book?”

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay. So, next thing here is your discussion with Castiel at the diner about your dreams of Alastair. And you say that you won’t go as far in writing about it as you did in speaking about it, but we can get into the specifics of the torture you endured in Hell in session today. Is that something you want to do, or feel a need to do, Dean?”

“To be honest, I don’t want to talk about it, but, except with Cas, I never have, and I think maybe it might do some good. Sam urged me to talk about it when I first came back, but I couldn’t get into details with him, y’know? I told him bits and pieces, just enough so he wouldn’t ask about it any more, and then I just shut him out of it. So, until just this past week, I’ve never really discussed the details of what I went through, and never with anyone but Cas. And, to be honest, I didn’t really tell  _ him  _ everything, either. I kinda just glossed over it, said they did X and Y, but didn’t get into it beyond that.”

Mia nodded, listening.

“It started out, I was on the rack. Kind of strapped down to a full-length easel, stood up at about a forty-five degree angle, so half-standing, half-lying back. Ankles strapped apart, with legs spread; wrists strapped in by my waist, unless Alastair wanted them up, and then they might be straight out, or straight up above my head, but always strapped tight to the rack itself, not to each other, and not like to the back of my neck, or anything like that. And in the beginning, it was almost always cutting. Alastair likes knives and scalpels. He gets into these weird contests with himself, where he likes to shave bits of people off, and see how long he can make them hurt without making them bleed, things like that. Sometimes, he’d let other demons have at me, and they might want to beat me up, or use a hacksaw, or just pull my limbs off with their bare hands. Or a succubi would come along and seduce me, and it would start out feeling good, and you get to thinking it’s kind of nice, because it’s pleasurable, but they always take it too far, and you’re too sensitive, and they won’t stop, they don’t stop, and it turns over into pain, and you’re screaming like a banshee, and they still won’t stop. Violent rape, too. You wouldn’t think it would feel like much for a smoke demon to enter you, but somehow, it’s worse. You can feel them absolutely everywhere, no flesh at all, just pressure on every possible contact point, to the point of pain, like it’s twenty times bigger than largest person you could ever imagine going in you… if you ever imagined that. They’d bind my hands and collar me with a metal collar and a leash, and then make me dance on an electrically charged plate, until my neck got a black ring around it from the current passing through the collar. They’d put me in the dark, and do nothing else, just sensory deprivation, no sound, no light, until I’d have done anything just to be able to see or hear something again. They’d waterboard me. The list of different things they’d do, well…. It just goes on and on.” Dean blushed slightly, but kept talking, doggedly.

“By the end of maybe the first...month? Kind of hard to tell the passage of time, not like you get a calendar down there. Anyway, after a while, they were cycling through pretty much everything you can think of, any kind of torture at all, on almost a daily basis. There was no pattern to how or when they’d do something specific, but you kind of get to know how many things they  _ can _ do, once they’ve done them all and started over a few times, y’know? And by the end of say, six months? By then, they were getting through all the things they could think of  _ every _ day, until by the end of the day, there was nothing left of me, and I had to be rebuilt up from scratch, from bare atoms and scraps of my soul. There’s no respite from torture when you pass out or die if you’re already dead, see - they can just keep going, and you feel everything they do, no matter what.

“At the end of the day, once they were done, I had to be reassembled. Alastair didn’t always put me back together correctly, either - that was another way to torture me; he’d put my head on backward, or my legs, so my knees buckled back, or to the sides, making it difficult to walk properly, if I was allowed to walk anywhere. And that’s how he was able to implant the false memories, I think. He just shoved them in while he was putting me back together. Cas said that when he pulled me out, he had to reconstruct me from scratch, meaning, again, from the atoms up, and he only had a few moments to do so between pulling me out of the Pit and when I was resurrected and came to, lying in a pine box in my grave. And in that time, he tried to sort through the memories, but only a few of them had obvious errors, like a purple sky, or red grass - something where, when Alastair created the false memory, he hadn’t paid enough attention and was rushed or something like that. Anything that wasn’t obviously, glaringly wrong like that, Cas felt he had to leave it, because it might be real, he couldn’t know for sure it wasn’t, and deleting anything real might do much worse damage than leaving even multiple fakes.”

“Okay, Dean, let’s stop for a minute and unpack some of that, okay?” Mia smiled softly. “Let’s start with the various kinds of sexual torture, because even a single rape can have a lasting effect on your sex life forever. Have you felt like the episodes of rape and other sexual torture in Hell have affected you, once you came back? Been hesitant to have sex, changed what you were willing, or wanting, to do in bed at all?”

Dean considered that for a moment. “Honestly… no. I don’t think so.”

“No change at all, Dean?”

Dean shrugged, thinking carefully. “Really, I can’t think of anything that I do differently, Mia. I mean, before Cas, I would never have admitted that I was bisexual, but I know that I always was.”

“Okay, well, I need to ask, Dean. How do you know you always were, really, and that bisexuality prior to Hell wasn’t something implanted in your psyche by Alastair?”

Dean stopped cold. He slowly looked up at Mia, frozen in terror at that thought.

“I’m not saying it was, Dean. I’m asking how do you know it wasn’t?”

“And I’m realizing that I don’t. I can’t rely on what my memory tells me, because my memories are largely fake.”

“All right, Dean. I have a suggestion. Forget about your past. Concentrate on your present. You’ve been with Cas, sexually, now, on several occasions, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you enjoy that? You’ve said you have enjoyed that, several times. In writing, and in our sessions, both. So, if you’re enjoying that relationship, what does that tell you, Dean?”

Dean thought, hard, about that, and slowly relaxed. He nodded to himself, thinking about it. He looked back up at Mia, a good deal less frightened now than he had been. “Yeah. I did. I damn well did, and no one messed with my memories or feelings about it, I just enjoyed it.”

“Okay, then. I honestly wasn’t trying to frighten you, Dean, but you need to consider that everything you think you know about your life before you went to Hell may be wrong, so any biases or beliefs you have that seem to stem from that time, should be examined. Particularly if, as with your sexual identity, it’s something that may have changed, or been repressed before.”

“Yeah, I get it, Mia,” Dean said. He ran a hand through his hair. “Is this always this hard, or is today an especially difficult session?”

“Well, we have covered some tough topics today, Dean. What did you expect, when you journaled about dreams about your time in Hell?” Mia smiled sympathetically.

“I guess.”

“Do you want to move on, stay with this, or call it a day, Dean? Up to you.”

“Let’s get back to what I wrote in the journal.”

“Okay. So, getting past what tortures you actually suffered, you write next that after thirty years, Hell time, Alastair came to you one evening, and seemed different; tired, kind. And where before you’d always been able to take resolve from his laughing at or mocking you, now, he seemed to be feeling some empathy, and that kind of did you in, and so he got you to give in, and take his deal, and so you agreed to be Alastair’s apprentice torturer by day, and his sex slave by night. And in putting the first soul up on the rack that you cut into, you were a righteous man spilling blood in Hell, and that was the First Seal required to be broken of the sixty-six needed to free Lucifer from the Cage. Did you know that, at the time, Dean?”

“No. Not until a lot later.”

“Had you known what the consequences would be, do you think you still would have given in?”

“No.”

“Even after thirty years of vicious torture?”

“Even then. But I didn’t know.”

“Exactly, Dean. You keep writing in here, over and over, about how it was your choice, but it wasn’t an  _ informed _ choice, was it? You didn’t know the consequences that making that choice would have, did you?”

“No…?”

“No. So, in addition to the fact that you were clearly under duress, Dean, add the fact that you were uninformed about the repercussions of your actions as another reason why you’re not to blame for them.”

Dean looked up at Mia, a tear streaking down his cheek, as he took in her words.

She nodded at him. “Really, Dean. I don’t know how many more ways you need to be told that you’re blameless for what you did.”

Dean rose from the couch and started to pace back and forth, thinking. Mia just let him walk it out for a moment.

Eventually, he stopped, across the office from where he’d been sitting, and said, “So, in addition to Sam’s ‘you were under duress’ argument, and Cas’ ‘you were the Righteous Man and the seal still broke, therefore, you were still righteous, therefore you were not blameworthy’ argument, you’re saying that, while I did make a choice, it wasn’t an informed decision, so, I’m not liable for it?”

“Exactly. Let’s say you had a problem with your gall bladder, requiring elective surgery. You go to the surgeon, and he tells you that it’s a very safe procedure. Now, there are some risks, but he doesn’t inform you of them. You have the surgery, and there’s a problem - one of the risks he failed to discuss with you actually happens, and you get sick from it. You eventually recover, but you have, say, lost wages and pain during the time you’re ill. Because he failed to inform you of the risk, he is liable for those damages, legally speaking. You can’t be held responsible for them. Same goes, here. You weren’t informed by anyone, prior to deciding to agree to Alastair’s offer, that you putting souls on the rack and spilling blood would have the consequence of breaking the First Seal, potentially freeing Lucifer and starting the Apocalypse. You could not possibly have known that might happen. It was a consequence you did not anticipate, and were not warned about, and therefore you did not factor it into your decision. Had you known, you would have made a different decision, even after thirty years’ of Hell’s worst torture. You just said that. Congratulations, Dean. You’re not to blame.”

“But…” Dean started, weakly, “even so, those other souls, they were hurt by my actions, and I had no right to do that.”

“Perhaps not, but Dean, those souls? They would have been hurt by someone, right? Another demon? Alastair, perhaps? No matter what, whether you tortured them or not, someone was going to hurt them. Correct?”

“Y-yes, but…”

“But? But what, Dean? But then it wouldn’t have been  _ you _ ? You couldn’t have stopped them from being tortured, could you?”

“N-no, but…”

“But? But what, Dean? Those souls were going to be tortured, with you present, without you present, with you taking part or no. They are irrelevant to your blameworthiness, Dean. And I bet Castiel would say the same. Wouldn’t he?” Mia pressed her advantage.

Dean weakly sat back down on the couch. “Huh.”

Mia smiled softly. “Put the blame for Hell behind you, Dean. Stop letting it tear you up. You were never to blame for what Alastair did - to you, or to the other souls that were there. Let it go.” Mia read on in the journal, watching Dean’s face out of the corner of her eye, as he slumped back on the couch, seeming to be a little bit in shock.

“Okay, so Saturday seems to have been a busy day for you, Dean. You wanna walk me through some of this?” Mia asked, gently.

“What? Oh. Saturday. Sure. Yeah.” Dean shook his head a little bit, as if to clear it. “Yeah, so Saturday morning, we got up and finished warding Donna’s cabin, and then Amara got there.”

“Okay, remind me, Dean. Who, exactly, is Amara, again?” Mia asked.

“Amara is God’s sister. She’s the Darkness to his Light. Originally, the Mark of Cain was a birthmark on her shoulder, which God ripped off of her arm. He used it as a lock on the interdimensional prison cell in which he confined her, with help from the four Archangels, and then he made Lucifer wear it. But it twisted Lucifer, corrupted him - turned him, well, dark. And for that, rather than removing the Mark from Lucifer, God imprisoned Lucifer in the Cage, in Hell, which is not only a prison, but also its own torture device.”

“Okay, so Amara is God’s sister. Got it. And why were you meeting with her?”

“Sam currently has, in his brain’s ‘memory palace,’ a version of Lucifer, and a version of the Archangel Michael. We were seeking Amara’s assistance in removing them from there, since she’s technically the one who put them there, although she didn’t realize that was what she was doing.”

“Um, what did she  _ think _ she was doing?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Lucifer and Michael both died. At the instant of their death, she concealed both of them from the reapers that would have taken them on to the Empty - where angels and demons go when they die - and gave them both a choice. They could go to the Empty if they wanted to, but they could also choose to go to the Cage, which she would modify so that it was just a regular holding cell. Now, what you have to understand, and this is complicated, is that the Cage, the way it was created, it’s not just a place, okay? It’s interdimensional, so that it’s at once both in a fixed location in Hell, and also in the mind of whoever inhabits it, at the same time. And each time another prisoner enters it, a new Cage gets created, in their own mind. So, when Sam went to Hell, and fell, with Lucifer and Michael, into the Cage, a Cage was created in Sam’s mind - and when Castiel rescued Sam’s body, and Death went back later and rescued Sam’s soul, the lock on the Cage in Sam’s mind was basically obliterated. But the Cage in Hell remained intact. Now, Lucifer  _ knew  _ that - he knew that Sam had escaped, and knew that had to be  _ how _ \- but Amara  _ didn’t _ . So Amara only knew about the Cage  _ in Hell _ , and when she didn’t specify further, Lucifer chose ‘the Cage,’ but meant the one  _ in Sam’s mind _ , and that’s where he ended up - but since the Cage in Sam’s mind has no lock, he’s free to wander around in Sam’s brain, essentially. Later, he pulled Michael in with him, when Amara gave Michael the same choice.”

“So, basically, Amara is an immortal, omnipotent being, who, by accident, put two archangels into your brother’s brain, and you met with her -”

“Not alone! I had Gabe, who’s also an Archangel, plus Cas, and Balthazar and Hannah, with me.”

“You  _ all  _ met with her, then, to ask her, nicely, to get them back out… and do  _ what  _ with them, exactly?”

“Well, we asked for her to let them fight with us, against God. But she’s got this whole neutrality thing going on, so she said yes, she’d take them out of Sam’s head, because that had been unintended, and he didn’t deserve that, but the best she could do would be to return them to the Cage in Hell, and make it so no one could get them back out. That way, she wasn’t violating neutrality by letting us use them, but she wasn’t giving God an edge, either, by making it possible for him to release them to fight for  _ him _ .”

“Dean… do I want to know why, exactly, you’re all fighting with… God?”

“Probably not.”

Mia sighed softly and rubbed her eyes gently. “Okay.”

“Let me put it to you like this, Mia. You remember Jack, right?”

“Yes, how is he?”

‘He’s fine, actually. He was away with some friends for a few days, just got back this morning. But for a while, he was dead, and when the Cosmic Entity returned the three hundred thousand angels, he  _ also  _ returned Jack. And the reason that Jack had been dead, was that… God killed him. He meant for  _ me  _ to do it, but I refused. Jack’s like a son to me.”

“Okay. Now, you write here that Cas asked to speak with Amara alone after the meeting, so you all cleared out to give them some privacy, and the rest of you went around painting over the wards. And then you realized that their after-meeting meeting was taking too long, so you went in to interrupt, and found that they were gone. And around that same time, you write here, that Gabe realized that Sam could be in danger, because ‘Amara’s reason for giving Lucifer the choice of the Empty or the Cage in the first place had been to have the option of keeping the power of an Archangel in the universe, without having to recreate it, which only God knew how to do. That meant that Lucifer and Michael both retained all of their power as Archangels, and they weren’t merely ‘memories with intent’ as Lucifer had been insisting. If Lucifer was lying about that, he could have been lying about everything, about the Mark, about being on your side, about Michael’s sanity – for if Lucifer had his powers, he could certainly make it appear that Michael was sane, when, in fact, he was still loony, and no real reason had ever been given for Michael’s supposed return to mental health.’”

“Right. So then Gabe tried to fly back to the Bunker, but he landed in an alternate universe, instead. And, at the same time, I saw Cas and Billie disappear from the cabin, and then realized that Balthazar and Hannah were missing. So to try to figure out what was going on, I called on the reaper that Billie assigned to keep watch over me, back when Michael was imprisoned inside my head.”

“Wait. Michael was imprisoned in your head, and now he’s in Sam’s head? I’m confused. How’d he get from one to the other?”

“Actually, it’s two different versions of Michael. The first one was the Michael from this universe; he fell into the Cage with Sam and Lucifer, wearing our half-brother Adam’s body. He was in there until fairly recently; he got out when God killed Jack and then opened a rift in Hell, trying to kill us. And then, apparently, he was walking across the street, and got hit by a car, and Amara gave him the choice, and he ended up in Sam’s head. That’s Michael #1. Michael #2 was from what we call ‘Apocalypse World’ - it’s an alternate universe where Sam and I were never born, so we weren’t around to stop the Apocalypse from happening, and in that world, Michael won, but decimated the planet. He came over to this world, and, a bunch of stuff happened, and he ended up in my head, then he switched into Rowena’s head, and then Jack forced him out, and killed him. That’s Michael #2; he’s dead, and now just gone.”

“Okay, Dean, question for you. You just said that in Apocalypse World, you and Sam were never born, so you weren’t around to stop the Apocalypse from happening, correct?”

Dean nodded.

“Okay, but didn’t the two of you also  _ start  _ it? You told me yourself that  _ you broke the First Seal _ by being the Righteous Man who shed blood in Hell. So, if you weren’t around to do that, because you were never born in that world, how did the Apocalypse start in the first place? Doesn’t that mean that it would have started with you or without you? And isn’t that further proof that you, yourself, are blameless?”

Dean paused to consider, his eyes wide. He gulped, then slid a sideways glance over at Mia. “Mia, you’ve gotta stop that. You’re blowing my mind too much, it’s starting to hurt. I’m going to need migraine meds by the time I leave here today.”

Mia just grinned.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Dean's mind has been blown a couple of times in this part of the session, hasn't it? More and more evidence piling up that Dean was never to blame, neither for the Apocalypse, nor for his choice to torture others to get himself off the rack. So. Much. PROGRESS! ;D
> 
> Remember, no art in the therapy session chapters, as they already run long as it is.
> 
> We're learning so much about our boy! Please comment! ;D


	197. Dean's Fifth Session With Mia, Pt. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's fifth therapy session concludes.

“So the next thing you wrote was a letter to yourself at ages 28-29, starting right after someone named Jake Tapper… cut through Sam’s spinal cord and kidneys with a hunting knife, and so you made a deal with a demon, and you tried to hide it from Bobby, but he figured it out, then you tried to hide it from Sam, and it took him a bit longer, but eventually he figured it out, as well. You write about the Hellhound coming for you, and you sort of gloss over your Hell experiences, passing over it to when you were rescued by Castiel, though you don’t know who or what got you out, at first. And then Bobby doesn’t believe it’s you, when you turn up on his doorstep. But once you’ve proved that it’s you, you say here, he simply accepts it. So, Dean, how did you prove that it was really you?”

“Well, Bobby thought that I had to be either a shapeshifter, or a revenant. So, I cut my arm with his silver blade, which proved I was neither of those. Oh. Um. Sorry, Mia.”

“Not necessary, Dean. Go on.” Mia smiled a bit at Dean’s sudden recollection of her shapeshifter nature.

“And then he thought I might be just a meat suit for a demon pretending to be me, rather than really just me. So he threw some holy water in my face. Which, of course, had no effect, other than to leave me dripping, and a little angsty.”

Mia laughed. “Only a little?”

“Well, I knew what he was doing. I couldn’t really take offense, y’know? He knew I had been in Hell; me coming back as I did didn’t really make a lot of sense, so me being a meat suit for a demon? That made a lot more sense to him, and I can’t blame him for it.” Dean grinned. “But after that? He didn’t need anything further. Just gave me a hug, told me it was good to see me, and that was it. Just accepted me for me, just like he always had.”

Mia nodded. “And you write here that that ‘just encapsulates your relationship’ with Bobby. That ‘he trusts you and believes in you, absolutely.’ That must have felt good, Dean.”

“Yeah. Bobby was amazing, Mia. I wish you could’ve met him. You would’ve liked him, and I think he would’ve liked you. I think he would have approved of what you do, using your… talent, shall we say, to help people.”

Mia smiled. “I try.” She looked back at the journal. “And then that sets up another comparison between Bobby, on the one hand, and John, on the other. You write, ‘John gave you the crumbs of his attention, almost none of his care, never really trusted you, and never acted like he believed in you. Bobby never held back from caring for you, showed you exactly how he felt about you, always trusted you, and always believed in you. John was the sperm donor who dragged you around and neglected you. Bobby was the father you needed, and thank goodness for him.’”

Dean nodded, an almost wistful expression on his face. 

“But then, Dean, you write this to your younger self: ‘remember that a lot of what you think you remember about John right now, at 29, fresh out of Hell, isn’t true, but rather was implanted, false memories, courtesy of Alastair. Try not to judge either John or yourself too harshly.’ That sounds like good advice, Dean. Planning on taking it, are you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been trying to forgive Dad, to let it go, as we discussed earlier, before that little break.”

“And yourself?”

Dean let out a shaky little breath. “I’m workin’ on it. Really.”

Mia smiled. “Good. Okay, so, that gets us up to the journal entry from Sunday afternoon. Basically, people who had gone off to various places to try to gather information were checking back in with what they’d learned, seems like, and you and Castiel and Balthazar drove back to Kansas - oh, with Cas driving, and you sitting in the back seat?”

“Yeah, that was a little odd. I think the last time I rode in Baby’s backseat, I might’ve been in high school, and Dad was driving her.”

“And then you write about an apology that Cas made to you. Tell me about that, Dean.”

“Well, he hadn’t been able to find me in the cabin, and he knew I hadn’t been planning on going outside. As far as he could tell, Gabe, Hannah, and Balthazar were all gone, too, when he got done talking to Amara. And then Billie showed up, and they got to talking, and they decided it would be a good idea to try to talk to the Cosmic Entity, which meant going to the Empty, so, just as I took a turn in the cabin that put me back in the same universe with them, I saw them - from behind them, so they didn’t see me - disappearing. And then, while they were gone, they found the other Lucifer, and decided he should come back with them to the Bunker; then when they got there, they found that the Bunker was heavily over-warded, and they needed Lucifer’s powers to strip some of the spells so they could get inside, and in order to make that possible, Lucifer needed a vessel. Billie, as she’s Death, literally couldn’t be a vessel if she wanted to be one, so that left Cas, and he agreed to share his vessel with Lucifer. Now, obviously, I wasn’t around to consult with on any of this, so far as Cas knew. So, he didn’t. But he had agreed not to just go haring off, and so he was concerned, and Balthazar told him that he was right to be, that I would be upset with him for it. So, he apologized, and then, when I wasn’t upset, and told him that he’d acted reasonably and properly under the circumstances, I think it maybe blew his mind a bit.”

Mia nodded. “And then you write, ‘I had so much anger inside of me, for so long. I lashed out so often, so much, for all the wrong reasons, and at all the wrong people, especially Cas. I see now how much damage that anger did, not only to me, but to all those around me, everyone I love, and I’m so sorry for it, but I’m not going to wallow any longer in the misery and shame that regret and remorse could engender. I refuse to drag myself back down into that morass of bad feelings. I see it, I acknowledge it, and now, I’m going to let it go. Because that’s the healthy thing to do. I could tell Cas that I’ll be different going forward, but he’ll have to see me actually being different, every time, not just once, in order to believe it. There’s no point in saying the words, when consistent action will speak more loudly anyway. The only words that are important now are the positive happy words like, “I love you,” “I want you,” and “I need you.” Oh, and “so, do you want to drive?” Because letting Cas drive makes Cas happy, and making my angel happy makes me happy. I like being happy. I think I forgot that, somewhere along the way.’ And I think that all sounds pretty good, Dean. But is it simply  _ aspirational _ ,  _ i.e. _ , something you want to shoot for, a goal; or is it something you’re actively putting into practice,  _ right now _ ?”

“Right now. I’m really trying to be better about thinking before I speak, and not just lashing out, and about showing people - not just Cas, but Sam, and Gabe, and Jack, etc. - that I’m going to act like this consistently, as far as possible, from here on out. I mean, yeah, I might backslide, I’m hardly perfect. But I’m going to try to do the best I can to make it stick.”

“Excellent, Dean.” Mia smiled. “Okay, next thing here is a letter to yourself at age 33, when Bobby was killed, and apparently, he haunted you for a bit?”

“Kinda. He didn’t haunt  _ me _ , exactly; he tethered his spirit to his silver flask, which he knew I loved and would keep. Of all of Bobby’s belongings, that flask was the one thing I might’ve wanted to actually carry on me, y’know? Not just for convenient alcohol, but because it reminded me of him, and holding it brought him to mind. If I set it on the motel desk, and then glanced at it, I could pretend that he was just in the other room, or had run out for something quick, and he’d be right back. It helped, when I missed him so damn much I could barely breathe. And while I know Sam missed him, too, Sam has always kind of been the more independent of the two of us. He went to Stanford on his own; even after Dad told him that if he walked out he should never try to come back, he still went, knowing what it would mean, knowing it would cut him off from basically all the family he had. So when Dad died, Sam mourned him, a little, but you could tell, looking at him, that Sam would be okay. Same when Bobby died. You could just tell, that Sam was hurting, sure, but he’d be all right. Whereas, I was kind of a mess. It really helped me to be able to pretend. But then, when we found out he was really there, or at least, his spirit was…. Yeah, that messed with me a little bit. I didn’t want to believe it.”

“You write here that ‘While it meant losing Bobby twice, being haunted by him also meant that you got something from him that you never got from John - closure.’”

Dean nodded. “A really long time later - just last year, in fact - we found this ancient Chinese artifact, a pearl, that let us have what our hearts most desired. And Sam let me use it, and I thought I’d be getting Michael out of my head, y’know? But instead, I brought Dad forward in time from 2003. And we were able to talk to him and say goodbye, finally. So, I did get closure with Dad eventually, but literally, not until years - over a decade - after he died. With Bobby, I got it after he died, but through his haunting, and it took just, oh, I dunno, maybe six, seven months.”

“And then you tell yourself this: ‘I know you mourn Bobby, but don’t get lost in your grief. You have things to do. You know that he loved you; he knew that you loved him. Let him go. Burn the flask . And when your own time comes, don’t seek a flask of your own. Keep your promise, and move on. But until then, remember that people love you. Let them in. Love them back. Tell them how you feel. I wish that I had told Cas how I felt about him when I was the age you are now…. I didn’t. That’s on me. But I have told him, now. That’s how I know how much better life could have been. Because it’s so much better now. You’ll get here, eventually. Let yourself believe it.’ So, now I need to ask, Dean. Do you? Do you believe it?”

“I really do, Mia. I really believe that good things really do happen and really are possible, and that I can have a part in that. I never used to, but I really do, now. And Cas is a huge part of that, but it’s also me, letting people in, not just Cas, but Sam, and Claire, and Jody, and Donna, and all the people in my life who love me, that I shut out for so long, when I didn’t need to, at all. I was blind, Mia, but now my eyes are open, and I’m keeping them that way.”

“Good for you, Dean. And that brings us to the Monday afternoon journal entry. And you say here that Lucifer ‘offered’ to go into Shann. Tell me about that, Dean.”

“Shann, you might recall, is Sam’s assistant, and he was hired to do basic clerical stuff, but, apparently, he’s got a knack for translation from modern-day Romance languages - French, Spanish, etc. - and Sam had him translating some texts from French into English, and he finished those, and he moved on to some Spanish texts. And the first one he worked on, it turns out, was pretty interesting, apparently. Also, Shann ended up in an alternate universe, briefly; there was a bleed-through spot in the Bunker, somewhere between the kitchen and the bathroom. Sam’s assigned reaper told him how to get back, but when he came, he saw what that universe’s Shann had been working on - the same text, but with some marked differences - so he stole that universe’s text, and the notes that universe’s Shann had written, and he brought them back with him. And he’s been working basically night and day on the two books, since, and asking questions of the angels about the contents. Lucifer figured it’d be easier to work together on the research if he shared a vessel with Shann, rather than with Cas, and Lucifer also knows that it makes me uncomfortable to be intimate with Cas, while Cas is sharing his body with Lucifer. He figured that if he moved over to Shann, who isn’t dating anyone at the moment, it’d kill two birds with one stone. Shann is still kind of mulling it over, not sure he really trusts Lucifer. Can’t say I blame him.”

Mia nodded. “And then you write here about figuring out that the clocks had stopped, and the information that you and your… well, team, I guess… gathered about that. And then you write here that, ‘This seems like something that really only a god could do, so I’m personally betting that it’s our not-so-friendly friend, Chuck. I could be wrong. He said, through Cas’ friend, Kathy, that he wants to end the fighting, and this would be an odd way to go about it. But of the other entities we know of with the “juice” to do this kind of thing, I can’t think of one that would have a motive to do it. With Chuck? Well, Sam did shoot him.’ Mia pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Well, you did say you all were fighting with God. Sam shot God, Dean?”

“Yeah. God - Chuck - whatever, he made this gun, he called it the Equalizer. He wanted me to use it to shoot Jack. What he didn’t initially tell me was that it didn’t shoot regular bullets; it gathers a piece of the shooter’s soul, and shoots that - and whatever damage is done to the target, is done to the shooter as well. So, if you shoot God, and you kill him, well, you die, too. So if I  _ had  _ killed Jack, I would have died, as well. When Sam shot Chuck, he winged him - hit him the shoulder. Gave both of them a nasty wound, that isn’t healing in either of them. The gun’s been destroyed, by the way. It’s gone.”

“And then you wrote this: ‘Being that it probably IS something only a god could do, there's probably nothing that I can do to fix it; yet I still have this odd sense that I ought to be doing something about it. I have no notion of what that would be, exactly, but... something. I can't save everyone, and I can't fix every problem, and not everything is my responsibility. Rationally, I know that; but I still have this niggling sense of... failure? Impending doom? I'm not even sure how to describe it.’ Dean.”

“Mia, I know, okay? I know it’s completely irrational. There’s nothing I can do, and it’s not my responsibility to fix it. And yet….” Dean sighed.

Mia shook her head. “Well, as long as you know that, I guess.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah.”

“And that brings us to your next letter to your younger self, and this is to yourself at a few ages, looks like. It’s about two women, Cassie, and Layla. Tell me about them, Dean.”

Dean’s face relaxed, and a fond smile slipped onto it. “Well… they were both gorgeous. Smart. Incredible. I was with Cassie for a while, and for a long time, I thought she was the one, Mia. I broke about a hundred of Dad’s rules with her, told her what we really did, and she thought I was crazy. Just full-on insane. Or lying. She couldn’t fathom that what I was saying was the truth, was real. Either I was lying so she’d break up with me, or I was nuts. She dumped me, said she never wanted to hear from me again. So, I took her at her word. And about four years later, I get a call on my cell. I honestly don’t know how she got the number, but it was Cassie. She had a supernatural issue she needed help with, so Sam and I went and cleared it out for her. And I fell right back under, hard. But when all was said and done, she didn’t want to be with me. She had her life set up the way she wanted it, and didn’t want to leave it. And I said that I would come back for her, but I never did.”

“Why not, Dean?”

“Because even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. We’ve discussed already that what I felt for Cassie wasn’t really love, it was a healthy dose of lust and attraction, with some admiration thrown in. But she didn’t believe in me, or trust me, and I need someone who’ll do both. And that’s what I learned from her - that I need someone who will believe in me and trust me.”

“And Layla?”

“I never really dated Layla, didn’t know her more’n a few days, really. We weren’t ‘together’ at all, she was just this sweet girl that I met. She had a rare form of brain cancer, incurable. She probably died a few months after I met her. But she had such faith. And what she taught me was that I need someone who has unshakeable beliefs, faith, in goodness, in miracles, if not necessarily in God. The two of them together taught me that I need someone who loves me, trusts me, and wants only the best for me.”

“And you found that.”

“I did. In Cas.” Dean smiled softly.

“That’s lovely, Dean.” Mia smiled, as well. “And that gets us up to this morning!”

“Yeah. Busy week.”

“Very. So, you told Claire about the engagement, and that went well, it seems?”

“Yup. Claire’s excited.” Dean grinned.

“And you got around to asking Sam to be Best Man.”

“Yeah, I should’ve done that earlier. My bad.” Dean looked at the ceiling and whistled, innocently.

Mia laughed. “Mmhmm. He doesn’t seem to have been upset, though.”

“No, he wasn’t.” 

“Cas took Claire home, then came back and had you come outside to star gaze with him. That’s sweet.”

“It was a gorgeous night for it, last night. The skies were so clear, and the air was crisp and cool, but not so cold that you couldn’t stand outside for a bit. So we stood out there and talked about wedding plans for a while. It was nice.”

“You write here that Cas ‘asked if I wanted to put up pictures of my absent loved ones - including Ben and Emma. I froze for a second, I think because I’m not used to having it be acknowledged that I even had those children, or that I love them still. I know that they can’t be at the wedding - Emma’s dead and Ben doesn’t know who I am anymore - but it meant so much to me that Cas would think to suggest that, and just mentioned their names casually, like,  _ of course _ , they’re among your absent loved ones.’ Now, we’ve talked about Emma and Ben before, Dean, and I know you said that you don’t mention Emma, particularly not to Sam. But I don’t know that I had realized that you don’t really talk much about Ben, either. Why is that?”

“Because I don’t see the point. We’ve discussed him, I’ve talked about Ben with Cas, and Sam, they know about him, it’s not like he’s a secret, but there’s nothing I can do to bring him back into my life. And it hurts, so yeah, I don’t talk about him, because why bring up a painful subject?”

“But you liked that Cas raised the notion of putting pictures of the children up at the wedding.”

“I liked that Cas understands what they mean to me. I turned down putting up pictures of them, and I would have even if I had pictures of them available to put up, which I don’t.”

“Ah. So, you like that Cas understands you, and knows what’s important to you, and is willing to cater to you with regard to what’s important to you, but you don’t feel it necessary to have that which is important to you present at your wedding?” Mia looked at Dean pointedly.

“Well, that’s kind of twisting my words, Mia.”

“I don’t think it is, Dean. What part of what I said is untrue?”

“I didn’t say that I don’t feel it necessary to have that which is important to me present at my wedding. I said that I don’t have pictures of Emma and Ben available to put out at the wedding. And, even if I did, I wouldn’t put them out, for a couple of reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for one, putting up a picture of Emma might be hurtful to Sam. Putting up a picture of Ben might endanger him. It would tell people that he’s still important to me, and that would make him seem like fair game. I cut him out of my life and had Cas cut me out of his memories to prevent just that, Mia!”

Mia raised her hands in surrender. “All right. Next, you write that Cas ‘said he was thinking he’d lay down, too. So, I asked if he was tired - because with an archangel’s power to draw on, as well as his own, he shouldn’t be tired, so if he is, that’s a concern - and he said no, but he’d thought it would be nice to snuggle, and it has been a while since we tried a new ‘one new thing’ - and that freaked me out a bit. I don’t want to be intimate with Cas with Lucifer - or anyone else, either - tagging along, as it were, and I snapped at him. He asked if something was wrong, and I told him, and we got past it. He agreed that we should wait until Lucifer is no longer sharing his vessel, and he understands why I am uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have snapped, and I owe him an apology for that, but it did lead to communication, eventually. And yeah, that’s because Cas asked - but he wouldn’t have asked, before. It would have just been just another dead issue, lying between us, building a wall. Those walls are down, now, and once he did ask, I was fine with explaining. The snap was instinctual,and I need to work on that, still, but hey, we talked! Progress!’ Well, Dean, that  _ is _ progress, and it’s good that you recognized it as such. Excellent.”

Dean smiled. “Thanks.”

“Don’t forget to apologize for the snap, though.”

“I know.”

“Okay. And then you were talking with Sam, and ‘he was having a mild crisis,’ because Gabe was going off without him to take a slight risk. So he asked you how you dealt with feeling unworthy of Cas, how you’d gotten past it. And you write that you ‘told him that I haven’t. I know I’m not good enough for Castiel, but he loves me, and that makes me want to try to be good enough, and that’s all anyone can really do - try.’ And that’s a very healthy outlook, Dean. Really good.

Mia continued, “And then Cas and Gabe went and got Chuck and Kathy, and apparently God has left Chuck with ten years’ of his life missing?”

“Yeah. It was confusing because apparently Chuck was a prophet, but just a human, until about ten years ago. Shortly after we met him - which was after the  _ Supernatural  _ books’ publisher went under and new ones weren’t coming out anymore, although Chuck was still writing them, then - God took Chuck’s body over as a vessel, and I guess started pretending that Chuck had been God all along. But now, God is gone, and Chuck is, as he puts it, ‘swimming back up to the surface for the first time in a long time,’ and back to being human. And a rabbity nervous little human, he is, too.”

“So everyone headed off to bed, or at least their own rooms, and you and Cas went back to your room, and Cas started in again to read the rest of your journal, and you write that ‘when I started to write this entry this morning, I found a note from him: “Dean, I read the whole thing from start to finish, and I am honored that you trust me with so much of yourself. I am so proud of you and the progress you’ve made so far, my heart. Thank you for loving me so much, and for finally being willing to take a chance. I love you. Always, Cas.” It made me smile. And that’s everything, except for today’s assignment - my letter to future me.’ That’s it? ‘It made me smile’?”

“Well, it did.”

“Okay. Seems like damning with faint praise, Dean.”

“Let me put it this way, Mia. I had some thoughts, but they’re for Cas, first.”

“Fair. Okay. That’s fair. And last, but certainly not least, your letter to your  _ future _ self. You write that you hope to retire completely from hunting, and now and then maybe restore a car. You and Cas live in the country in a house big enough for you, him, Jack and Claire, and their children, so they can drop by whenever to see you, and you hope Sam and Gabe live nearby. And then you write, ‘I don’t really know what else to write to you, Old Gray Me. Except this: don’t fuck it up. Be good to Castiel, and to yourself. Let yourself be happy, Dean. You earned it.’ Well, I agree, Dean, you’ve certainly earned happiness, if anyone has. This letter is short, but sweet. It’s interesting, because all of your other letters to yourself this week were rather long, with the exception of the first one. It kind of looks like when you wrote the first one, you weren’t sure of what you wanted to say, so you kept it short, and when you wrote the last one, which was the first to your future self, you again weren’t sure of what you wanted to say, so, again, you kept it short. And in the middle, there, you seemed to get into the exercise, and let yourself really dig in, writing a lot and getting in a lot of good self-analysis. Does that seem accurate to you, Dean?”

Dean considered it. “Maybe. I really didn’t know what to write to myself in the future. It’s hard, because for so long I kind of assumed the future was the one thing I wouldn’t have to worry about, y’know? I mean, Mia, I died at 29. I thought it was forever, when I went down. Cas pulled me out after four months, but if not for that, it would have been forever. The future wasn’t something I ever really thought about.” Dean shrugged.

“That’s fair. But remember, we talked last week about making plans, right? Well, this is part of that. You can’t plan ahead if you have no dreams or goals for the future, Dean. So, your homework for this week, I think, is for you to sit down with Cas, and maybe Sam and Gabe as well, and think about what the whole bunch of you want for your futures. Where do you want to be in ten years? Twenty? Forty? And then sit down with Cas, and make a plan for, say, the next five years? Is that do-able, Dean?”

“Maybe. We can try, at least.”

“Right. And then why don’t you see if Castiel is available to come with you next week? And then we can all three of us sit down and talk about the plans you both made, see how far you got, talk about what you both decided you want. Does that work?”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Works for me. I don’t know of anything Cas has next week that would get in the way of that, but I can send you an email or something if he can’t make it, how’s that?”

“That works. And I understand that I have an appointment with Sam on Thursday. I’m looking forward to that.”

“So is he, I think.” Dean smiled. “Sam’s always been better than me at communicating, so he’ll probably have this knocked in no time.”

“We’ll see, Dean. We’ll see. All right. So. Next week, same day, same time - roughly, unless we’ve got clocks back by then - with Cas, unless you email. And if you want to continue to journal, you can, if you want to keep writing letters, you can do that, too. I saw you had put in one of your entries that there were entities that you now find it odd you somehow forgot to write letters to before, so go ahead, if you want. And did you ever send any of those letters that we talked about possibly sending?”

“Um, no. I guess I should, huh?”

“Well, only if you’re comfortable with sending them. There were some you said you wouldn’t be, so you needn’t, but there were some people who you said you thought deserved explanations. Like, I believe, Donna, for example.”

“Yeah. I should send some of them. I should. I will. I’ll get on that tomorrow. Looks like it’s kinda late to do it today.” Dean nodded at the window, which showed that it was already full dark outside. “I’d better get moving. Cas is going to wonder where I am.”

“All right, Dean. Have a good week, then. See you Tuesday.” Mia walked him to the door and gave a little wave as he drove off in the Impala. 

She sighed softly as she went back inside and closed the door behind her, sliding the deadbolt closed. 

_ So much progress. I wonder: will what I've been asked to do impede that, or make it easier? _

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MUCH. DAMN. PROGRESS. Wow. So proud of our boy! ;D  
> Wonder what Mia's been asked to do, and who asked it of her? Hmmm..... Ominous? Maybe. Maybe not! ;)
> 
> Please comment!!!


	198. Unexpected Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes home, gets some food and chats with Sam. He gets his message from Shann. He invites Cas to movie night, then decides to return Lilah Stinson's call. In doing so, Dean finds out that he's been left an unexpected inheritance.

Dean drove through the parking lot, to check, and saw that he could once again see the railing and the door. Clearly, someone had fixed the warding again. He circled back around to the garage; the door was still standing open, so he drove in and parked the Impala in her usual spot, turned off the engine, and got out, shutting the door behind him. He gave the car a quick pat of appreciation, and headed inside, and straight for the kitchen.

Once there, he found Sam looking in the refrigerator, moving containers around. 

“Hungry, Sammy?”

“Oh, Dean, you’re back. Long session today, huh?” Sam turned to look at him, holding a two-pound container of potato salad.

“Yeah, we got through a lot, actually. I’m starving, you wanna let me in there? I can make a couple of sandwiches for us.”

“You made lunch, and didn’t even eat it. Have you eaten anything today, Dean?”

“I had a granola bar and a bottle of water.” Dean started pulling leftovers out of the refrigerator and setting things on the counter. “But yeah, I didn’t have that until about half-way through the session, maybe. We took a short break, Mia sent me outside to get some air, and I found the granola bar in Baby’s glove compartment, no idea how long it’d been in there.”

“Ugh.” Sam made a face and pretended to gag.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Dean poked his brother’s arm, then pointed to a cupboard. “You wanna get out a couple of plates, there, Sammy?”

“Sam,” Sam said, automatically, as he did as asked. But instead of only two, he took down several, setting them on the counter. “Pretty much everyone’s going to be hungry pretty soon. Why don’t you just put a note on the stack of plates that dinner is just leftovers from lunch, and everyone should just help themselves, and then you go get some rest or do something fun. I can handle the clean up, later.”

“You sure, Sammy?” Dean ignored the correction, as usual. “I don’t mind cooking….”

“Dean, you already cooked. There’s plenty left over. Everyone can fend for themselves for a night. You go do something for you.”

“Well, in that case…” Dean fixed two plates of food, and lifted them both, dodging Sam’s attempt to take one. “I’m going to go and see if my angel wants to eat with me. Help yourself, Sammy.” Dean grinned, and ducked out of the kitchen. 

Sam looked after him in exasperation for a moment, then grinned, and took a plate.

***

Dean passed the library door, and noticed the light was still on, and Shann was still sitting at the table, so he took a quick detour. “Hey, Shann. There are leftovers in the kitchen, help yourself. But it’s getting kind of late. You don’t have to hang out here all the time, y’know, man. Get a life.” Dean grinned at him.

Shann looked up, and smiled. “Hey, Dean, thanks for making such a great lunch spread. Sorry I missed you, earlier. Oh, hey,” he continued, remembering suddenly, “you had a phone call earlier. I wrote down the message for you, it’s in your inbox.”

“Oh, hey, thanks, man.” Dean set down one of the plates, and retrieved the message slip, shoving it into his pocket. He picked the plate back up, and continued on to the “Dean Cave.” Once there, he set the plates on the coffee table, got out his cell, and dialed Cas.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. I’ve got food for you in the Dean Cave. Wanna come and watch a movie with me?”

“I’ll be right there.” Cas ended the call, and Dean slipped his cell back into his pocket. His fingers brushed against the message slip, and he pulled it out. He sat down on the couch as he read it.

“Lilah Stinson. Sister of Anne Marie Stinson.” He ran a hand through his hair.

_ I honestly have no idea who these people are. I wonder what this is about. _

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said again, as he walked in and sat down next to Dean.

“Hey, Angel. Your turn to pick the movie, Babe.”

“Is it? Do you mind watching  _ The Princess Bride _ again?”

“Nope, love that flick. Go ahead, put it in.” Dean leaned back on the couch with his plate, put his feet up on the coffee table, and settled in. Cas put the DVD in the player, hit the remote, and came over to sit down next to Dean. The previews came on.

“There’s food there for you, Babe. I know you don’t always eat, but I like to give you the option.” Dean smiled softly at his fiance.

“I’m not hungry just now,” Cas told him. “Can we snuggle, or will that get in the way of you eating your dinner?”

“We can snuggle, absolutely. C’mere.” Dean held out his arm, and Cas tucked himself up against Dean’s side.

“Cas, do you remember a Lilah Stinson, or an Anne Marie Stinson? I had a message today that Lilah Stinson called, and I have no idea who that is.”

Cas considered, then shook his head. “No idea, my heart.”

“Eh, no worries. I suppose I should call her back, though.”

“You want to do that before the movie? I’ll pause it.” Cas clicked the remote.

“Yeah, I probably better.” Dean dug his cell phone back out, and punched in the number on the message slip.

***

A phone rang in a slightly dingy house in North Dakota. Lilah Stinson picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

A deep male voice asked, “May I speak to Lilah Stinson, please?” 

“You’ve got her. Who’s this?”

“Ms. Stinson, this is Dean Winchester, returning your call from earlier today.”

“Oh. Good. Thank you for calling back.”

“Sure. Can I ask what this is about?”

“Of course. I’m sorry. Look, you don’t know me, we’ve never met. But you knew my sister, briefly, Anne Marie Stinson? I don’t know if you remember her, it was about five years ago.”

“Um, no, to be perfectly honest, I don’t remember your sister. Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine. She had said you might not recall, wasn’t sure if you would or not. You weren’t in town very long.” Lilah sat down at the kitchen table, and her fingers tangled nervously in the phone cord. “Look, Mr. Winchester, I’m sorry, and I really don’t know how to say this but to just say it. My sister died last week and she left … something for you.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. She left something for me? What?”

“Your daughter.”

***

The call ended a few minutes later, with Dean standing next to the couch, in shock.

“Dean? What is it?”

“Um. I’ve gotta…  _ Shit _ . I’ll have to call Jody, I guess.” Dean started to pace back and forth along the back of the couch.

“Call Jody for what?”

“Well, I can’t go. Can’t drive through South Dakota. Can’t just leave her there.”

“Dean, Dean, slow down. What’s going on?” Cas watched Dean’s pacing go from measured to frantic in seconds. He got up, faced Dean, and put his hands on his shoulders to calm him. Dean took a deep breath, and automatically moved Cas’ hand down to cover the spot where he’d branded Dean’s bicep eleven years before.

“Apparently, about five years ago, I was in North Dakota for a while, and I met this Anne Marie Stinson. I wasn’t there long, but I guess it was long enough.”

“Long enough for… what, Dean?”

“Anne Marie Stinson died last week, leaving behind a four-and-a-half year old daughter. Her sister, Lilah, who has six kids of her own, can’t keep her, and apparently it took her a couple of weeks to track down a number for me that worked.”

“And she’s claiming that this child is yours?”

“Yep. But with what was going on in South Dakota, I can’t drive up to North Dakota to get the kid. Can’t have her lose her mother to cancer and then her father to prison.”

“Dean, slow down. You don’t even know for certain that this child is really your daughter.”

“Cas. Do you really think that matters to me?” Dean’s voice took on a hard quality. “I’ve got some calls to make.” 

Dean turned and walked out of the room. Cas sat down, slowly. 

_ That took a wrong turn. _

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. Interesting. Verrry interesting. ;) So, what do you think - is the kid Dean's or not?  
> Do you all remember who Anne Marie is? Any theories on why Dean might not recall her off the top of his head? ;)
> 
> Sorry, no art.
> 
> Please comment!! ;)


	199. Making Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean speaks with Jody, who agrees to pick up his daughter for him. Dean tells Sam.

Dean dialed and waited for Jody to pick up. He paced in the kitchen, now and then stopping by the kitchen island to lean, but then just standing straight and pacing some more.

“Hello?” Jody sounded asleep.

“Hey, Jodes, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Um, kinda, but ‘sok, Dean. ‘Sup?” Jody asked.

“I have a really big favor to ask, Jody.”

“Sounds like I need to be awake for this, huh? Okay, give me just a second, Dean.” Jody put the phone down and Dean could hear water running for a few seconds. “All right, I splashed some water at my eyes, and now I’ll head down and start some coffee, but you’re good to talk. So, talk.”

“I had a call earlier today from a woman named Lilah Stinson, in North Dakota. Now, I don’t know her, but apparently about five years ago, I knew her sister, Anne Marie Stinson, briefly. Anne Marie died of cancer last week, and left me… something.”

“An unexpected inheritance? Ooh, what is it? Money? Pirate’s treasure map?” Jody guessed.

“Um. No, nothing like that. She left me a daughter, Jody. A four-and-a-half year old little girl. Lilah’s got six kids of her own, and can’t keep her, and I want to take her, but, well, here’s where the favor comes in.”

“You can’t come through South Dakota with that federal investigation still on-going.”

“Got it in one, Jodes. I need someone to go pick her up for me.”

“And you’d like that someone to be me, I take it.”

“Or Claire, or Alex. I trust all of you. But yeah. Please.”

“What’s the girl’s name, Dean?”

“Deanna Rose Stinson… for the moment, at least. I’d like it to be Winchester, but I don’t want to freak her out with too many changes all at once, y’know?”

“Dean, take a breath, okay? How sure are you that this child is really yours? Do you remember the mother?”

“No. I don’t. It was a long time ago, and apparently I was only in town there for a couple of weeks.”

“Do you have any reason to believe the child might be yours, beyond the mother’s family’s say-so?”

“Look, Jody, I appreciate that you’re trying to be protective of me, and I appreciate that you’re a cop, and going into investigative mode is what you do, and all, but I don’t care. There’s a child who has lost her mother, who needs a place to go where people will love her, who might be mine, and that’s all I needed to hear.”

Jody let out a breath, slowly. “I hear you, Dean. I get it.”

“I know. I know, Jody, it’s how you ended up with Claire, Alex, and Amy. And I’m not asking you to take Deanna. Just to get her for me, because I can’t. I’ll pay for gas, food, motels, whatever you need; just, please, get my daughter for me, Jody. Okay?”

“Yeah. We’ll figure something out, Dean. One of us will get her. You’ve got a way to put us in contact with the aunt? What was her name again? Lily?”

“Lilah. Yeah, I’ve got her phone number, and an address. She lives in Beulah, North Dakota.”

“That’s about a seven and a half hour drive from here. We’ll have to take it in stages. I’m thinking maybe Claire and I will both have to go.”

“Might be best to have two of you, yeah,” Dean agreed. “Thank you, Jody. I’ll call Lilah, let her know you’ll be coming for Deanna, and that you’ll call to let her know when to expect you.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome, Dean. All right, give me the aunt’s address.”

***

Dean was still sitting in the kitchen, having called Lilah back to make arrangements, about an hour later, when Sam wandered in for a snack. Dean’s head was in his hands, as he leaned forward against the kitchen table.

“Dean? You all right, man?” Sam asked, concerned.

“No.” 

“What’s wrong?” Sam pulled out a chair, and sat down next to Dean, a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder.

_ Sam  _

“Sam… I… I just found out that I have a daughter.”

“A daughter? How? When?”

“She’s four-and-a-half. Apparently, about five years ago, I was in a little town for a couple of weeks, and I hooked up with this woman, Anne Marie Stinson. I don’t remember ever being there, or the woman, at all.”

“So, what happened to the mother?” Sam asked.

“She died of cancer last week. Apparently, she told her sister, Lilah, about me a few weeks ago, when the doctor told her there was nothing more they could do for her. Lilah’s got six kids of her own, she can’t keep her, so Anne Marie told her to get the girl to me. It took Lilah a while to find a number for me that worked. She called while I was at therapy, and Shann took a message. I called her back when I got home.”

“So, what are you doing, still sitting  _ here _ ?”

“I can’t go to get her. They live in a little town called Beulah….”

Sam cut him off abruptly. “Beulah?  _ Beulah, North Dakota _ ?”

“Yeah, why? Does that sound familiar to you, Sam?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Dean. It does. That’s where I tracked you and Crowley down, right before Cole Trenton kidnapped me as bait to get to you. The two of you had been staying at the Black Spur, a bar with a motel out in back, but Crowley told you that I was tracking you, so you left.  _ You were a demon then _ , Dean.”

“ _ That’s _ why I don’t remember it. I don’t remember much of that time, it’s all kind of foggy, now.”

“Dean, if you fathered a child while you were a demon… It would be a cambion. Remember Jesse Turner?”

“The Anti-Christ kid? Yeah.”

“Yeah. That kid had _serious_ power.”

“Cas said it was because Lucifer walked the Earth.”

“And now we have _two_ Lucifers, sort of. The one in Cas, and the one in my brain. Even if they’re not corrupted, now, does that mean that this girl would have _twice the power_ that Jesse did?”

“Oh, great. And I just asked Jody to go and pick her up for me.”

“Well, Lucifer’s no longer corrupted, so maybe it’s not a bad thing? And like I told Jesse, he was half-human, and he got to choose how he wanted to be, he could choose to be good. So could this girl. What’s her name?”

“Deanna. Deanna Rose Stinson.” Dean blushed slightly.

Sam smiled softly. “Let’s get Cas and Gabe in on this discussion, and see what they think.”

“No. I’m not calling in the God Squad to have a discussion about whether or not I’m taking custody of my four year old daughter, Sam. Her mother’s dead, her aunt can’t keep her, she doesn’t have anyone else, and I’m not having my kid go into the system. Period. She comes here, and that’s final.”

“Yeah, I get that, Dean. I’m not saying she shouldn’t come here. Hell, she’s my niece, all right? I’m just saying we need a broader perspective on how to keep her potential powers under control, particularly if she’s going to be living here in the Bunker.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comments for last chapter, it was suggested that the child would be a liability, and Dean should send her far away. That's not Dean. He'd send away an adult who was capable of taking care of themselves, sure, in a heartbeat, so they didn't get hurt. He sent away Ben, but Ben was already a teenager, and had Lisa. He would never send away his own, now mother-less daughter, who, as a toddler, isn't capable of taking care of herself, and he would never leave his child to the tender mercies of CPS, not after the childhood that he and Sam had. So, no, he's not sending his little girl away. It's just not in him to do, that's just not happening.
> 
> More art! 
> 
> Please comment! :)


	200. Boarding Schools and Relationship Tools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody, Claire, Alex, and Amy chat as Jody and Claire head out to pick up Deanna. Dean and Cas have a talk.

“Claire! Get a move on!” Jody called up the stairs. She turned to Alex. “You’re going to be okay, with just you and Amy here? You’ve got cash on hand? I just went grocery shopping, so there’s food, and you can order whatever you want, just make sure Amy drinks a glass of milk with each meal, and….”

“Jodes, I’ve got it. We’ll be fine. You’re only gonna be gone, what, three, four days, at most? It’s not like Amy is really a little kid, she’s more like a little adult. She needs someone to get a plate down from the cupboard, but she doesn’t need me to ride herd on her all the time. You know this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do. I’m just….”

“Frazzled and flustered and wanting to be on the road. I know.” Alex smiled at her foster mother. “It’ll be okay, Jody. Take pics. I wanna see Dean’s daughter.”

Jody grinned and winked. “Me too. Will do.” Then she turned and yelled up the stairs again. “Claire Novak! Not sometime this century, _now_!”

“I’m coming! Sheesh.” Claire humped her duffel higher onto her shoulder as she started down the stairs, Amy behind her.

“Bye, Jody. Bye, Claire,” came Amy’s quiet voice.

“You’re all right, Amy? We’ll be back in a few days, but you can call us any time if there’s a problem. Or you can call Cas, okay?”

Amy nodded. “I know. I like Castiel.”

Jody smiled. “Yeah, he’s pretty great.”

“I’d like to meet Dean’s daughter. Sounds like we’re about the same age, at least, biologically speaking.” Amy sounded a little wistful.

“Well, I am going to see what I can do about getting permission to take you on trips out of state. If we can do that, we can all head down to Kansas, and hang out with Cas, and Dean, and Sam, and whoever else they’ve got hanging out at their place now, and then you could meet Deanna - that’s Dean’s daughter’s name.”

“Cas had mentioned that, too. That maybe we could get permission, when the time came, for me to go to ‘boarding school’ and they could home-school me with Jack. Maybe Deanna could be home schooled with us, too.” Amy suggested.

Claire and Jody exchanged a glance. “Well, that’s certainly a thought, Amy. We’ll have a chat with them about that, if that’s what you want,” Jody told her.

“Okay. I’m going to go read, now. You drive safely and have a good trip.” Amy headed back up the stairs.

“Cas mentioned that, did he?” Jody asked Claire.

“News to me. I left them alone just for a couple of minutes, while he was checking her over. He must have said something to her while I was out of the room.”

“It isn’t actually a bad idea, Jodes. It’s not like Amy’s going to fit in, in a regular kindergarten class, especially not after another year living here. She won’t be able to socialize properly with the other kids at all,” Alex pointed out.

Jody sighed. “I suppose. So, I’d, what, go down to Kansas with her? I kinda need to work.”

“I could go,” Claire volunteered.

“Great, but _you_ don’t have custody of Amy, Claire.”

“Well, I think that was the point of Cas suggesting ‘boarding school,’ Jodes,” Alex said. “The ‘school’ would take the place of the foster parent. The state doesn’t have to know that the ‘school’ is actually a bunch of hunters and angels, right? As long as Amy’s getting a decent education, why would the state care? Once it gives permission for her to go out of state, that is. And you could go visit, and the guys could bring Amy here, once the Fibbies are gone and the current ruckus around here dies down.” 

“They were going to be spending more time up here, anyway, what with taking over the Yard. Or, at least, Dean was. Yeah, I know. Well, it’s something to think about, but for now, let’s just get moving and go get this little girl!” Jody opened the door and lugged her suitcase out to the car’s trunk. 

Claire smirked as she followed with just her much lighter duffel bag. “Seriously, Jodes, we’re only going to be gone a few days. A full-sized suitcase?”

“Shut up, Claire,” was Jody’s helpful suggestion.

Claire laughed as she got in the passenger side of the car and pulled out her cell phone to check her Facebook page.

***

“Dean? May I speak with you, please?” Cas hesitated to enter their bedroom.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, Angel. I owe you a couple of apologies. C’mon in. Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you.”

Cas relaxed a little, and went in the room, closing the door behind him. “I don’t think you owe me _any_ apologies, Dean. I was actually planning to apologize _to you_ , in fact.”

“No, I do. So, let me go first, okay?” Dean looked up and smiled at his angel.

Cas relaxed a little more, and smiled back. “Oh, all right. If you insist, my heart.”

Dean grinned. “There we go. Okay, first, I need to apologize to you because last night, I snapped at you. You suggested trying ‘one new thing,’ and I was uncomfortable because of Lucifer, but instead of just _saying_ that, I snapped and said that I was tired, so that wouldn’t be happening. And we _have_ made progress, because you realized something was wrong, and you asked what it was, rather than just backing off and letting it go and being hurt by my snappishness, and then we talked and we got past it, and it was fine, but I shouldn’t have snapped. I should have just said what I was feeling, and I didn’t, and that was wrong. Snapping was wrong, and not saying why I was upset was wrong. It wasn’t _much_ , but it was still hurtful. So, I owe you an apology for both of those wrongs, and I _am_ sorry, Cas, so sorry. Please, forgive me?”

Castiel stepped over to Dean, a soft smile on his face, and he put his hand gently on the site of the old brand on the bicep, as he quietly told Dean, “There’s nothing to forgive, my heart.”

Dean put his hand atop Castiel’s, and held it in place a moment, his eyes down, and he nodded. “Thank you, Cas.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. I know that when you were asking questions earlier, in the Dean Cave, that you were acting with my best interests at heart, and you were surprised by the news that I have a daughter, and you weren’t trying to upset me. And what you said really shouldn’t have upset me, either. And instead of listening to what you were saying, I leaped to conclusions about what you were trying to say, and probably took it all wrong, and jumped down your throat, and I shouldn’t have, and so I’m apologizing for that, too. Because I shouldn’t be pushing you away, and shutting you out, and I did both, there. I’m sorry, Cas. Really.”

 _Cas and Dean_

Cas pulled Dean gently in for a hug, and dropped a kiss on the top of Dean’s head. “It’s all right, love. I think you were a little frazzled by the news, too. Finding out that you have a daughter is big, Dean. It’s a whole life that we’re suddenly responsible for, out of nowhere.”

Dean stiffened a little, and leaned back. “ _‘We’re’_ responsible, Cas?”

Cas looked a little confused. “Well, of course, _we_ , Dean. Did you think I’d break off the engagement, or let you do so, just because there’s suddenly a child in your life? We’re getting married. We love each other. Your responsibilities are mine, and vice versa, Dean.”

Dean suddenly felt boneless. “Really, Cas? You’re okay with it?”

“Well, _of course_.” Castiel seemed mystified that Dean would have come to any other conclusion. 

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. “Cas, you have no idea how much better that makes me feel. But, you may not have considered something, something that Sam realized a little bit ago. We were actually going to talk to you and Gabe about it.”

Cas sat next to Dean, and took Dean’s hands in his. “What is it, love?”

Dean tensed up again. “Cas, when I was with Anne Marie… it was while I was a _demon_. Wouldn’t that make this little girl a _cambion_ , half-human, half-demon? Sam reminded me of Jesse Turner, the Anti-Christ kid who turned you into a little plastic figurine with a thought. And that was when you were at full strength, wasn’t it? You said that Jesse was powerful because Lucifer walked the Earth; well, now we have _two_ Lucifers - so, does that mean that my daughter would have twice the power, now, that Jesse had, then? And you need to consider whether you want to be around for a cambion, Cas. If Deanna’s not just a normal kid, then I can’t ask you to….”

“Dean, stop. You aren’t asking. You don’t _have_ to ask, ever. Okay? _We’re partners._ Period.

"As for Deanna being a cambion, well, she might be, yes. And we won’t know if she has any powers, or what the extent of her powers might be, until she’s here and we can test them.

"But I would also point out to you that when we were finding out about Jesse Turner, we didn’t know that it was possible to _cure_ a demon. We’ve since done that a couple of times. We cured _you_. Stands to reason, if we can cure a full demon - you - we ought to be able to cure a _half_ -demon.”

“But we’d have to give a four year old - my own daughter - extremely painful shots in the neck, Cas!”

“We don’t know that, Dean. Calm down, all right? Let’s find out what we’re dealing with, before jumping to conclusions about what we might have to do to fix the situation.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I’m flying off the handle, and there might not be any reason to do so. You’re right.”

“It’s okay. You’re frazzled. You had a very long therapy session on very little food, then you got this news, which while not necessarily bad news, could be seen as upsetting, yes? And you still haven’t eaten much, and you’re tired. Why don’t I fix you a sandwich, and you get comfy, and I’ll bring it in to you, here, and we can talk some more, okay?”

Dean sighed. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course, my heart.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good to see that Amy is making at least a little progress, too, and that the older girls recognize it as such, isn't it? And that the girls are willing to help Jody with whatever she needs. They really are a family. :)
> 
> And Dean and Cas! Talking! Apologizing! Getting their issues out in the open and having a civil discussion about them! Look at 'em go! lol SO MUCH PROGRESS here! Yay! :D
> 
> More art!
> 
> 200 chapters!!!!!!!!! Eep!
> 
> Please comment!!! :D


	201. On the Way to Pick Up Deanna Rose / Deanna Rose Picks Up After Herself...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody gets a call from Dean and then has to explain to Claire that Deanna might have some kind of unspecified "powers," and why. Deanna Rose misses her mommy and isn't sure she trusts her daddy, but she's trying not to be naughty. Bad things happen sometimes when Deanna Rose is naughty.

Jody ended the call and huffed out a breath.

“What was all  _ that  _ about?” Claire asked.

“Well, that was Dean. Apparently, there’s a chance that this little girl may be special in more ways than just the fact that she’s his daughter.”

“Oh? How so?”

“She may have… powers.”

“Like… what  _ kind _ of powers?” Claire could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising.

“Dean isn’t sure what kind of powers she might have, exactly.”

“And why would he think that she might have powers, at all, Jodes?”

Jody winced a little. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Um...why  _ not,  _ I’d like to know?” Claire was indignant. “Guy’s going to be, well, sort of my  _ stepfather  _ in a few months, so this girl will kind of be my  _ sister _ , and I’m not supposed to know why she has  _ powers _ ? Oh,  _ hell  _ no. Spill, Jodes.”

“All right, hold on, I’m gonna pull over at the next rest stop, it’s coming up here, and I need a bathroom anyway.” Jody found the rest stop exit, pulled off the highway, and parked the car. She got out and stretched. Claire got out as well, and stared at her.

“Just hold on until after I use the restroom, okay?” Jody stomped off, grumpily.

Claire huffed out a sigh, but leaned back against the car door to wait. It didn’t take long.

Jody returned and gestured to Claire to get back in the car. Once they were seated with the doors closed again, Jody took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I don’t know if you were aware that for a while, about five years ago, Dean… had a problem.” Jody winced again as she tried to find a delicate way of saying it.

“What  _ kind _ of problem, Jody?” Claire was rapidly losing her patience.

Jody ran a hand through her hair. She stared out the windshield and said, with as little inflection as possible, “Dean was a demon for a few months.”

“Dean was a…  _ what?” _ Claire demanded.

“Calm down. Sam and Dean had to kill the last remaining Knight of Hell, a demon named Abbadon. There was only one being who could do that at the time: Cain, the Father of Murder.”

“Cain? As in the guy from the Bible, Adam and Eve’s son, Cain?”

“Yup. That’s him. But Cain had retired. He wouldn’t agree to kill Abbadon himself, no matter how good a reason there was to do so, because he wasn’t killing anyone any more. But he did agree to give Dean the power to be able to do so himself. He passed to Dean a mark on his arm, called the Mark of Cain, which he got from Lucifer. The Mark corrupted  _ him _ , was passed to Cain, and Cain had it, until Cain finally passed it to Dean - five years ago. Following along?”

“Yeah, it’s a great fairy tale, Jodes. Really. I’m impressed.” Claire rolled her eyes, clearly not buying a word of it.

Jody rolled her eyes. “It’s not a fairy tale, Claire. Apparently, once a person gets the Mark, it gives them a kind of immortality; they can die, but once they do, they’re reborn… as a demon. Dean was killed, and was reborn, and so he was a demon for a while. But he and Sam had discovered that there was research out there saying that it’s possible to  _ cure _ a demon. So, after the first couple of months that Dean was a demon, Sam captured him, and then Sam and Castiel held him captive while Sam worked the cure. I don’t know what’s involved, and I’m not sure I want to.”

“Well, werewolves and vamps can be cured by injection of the blood of the creature that bit the victim, so long as they haven’t eaten yet,” Claire pointed out, from personal experience.

“Yes, but Dean had killed as a demon. I don’t know if that matters... Anyway, it cured him and he was no longer a demon, but he still had the Mark. So, then, they had to do something else to get rid of that, and I don’t know that part of the story. Anyway, long story short - too late - Dean’s no longer a demon. But, he  _ was _ a demon when he was sleeping with Deanna’s mom, Anne Marie.”

“So, the kid’s half-demon, then?”

“Maybe. It’s unclear whether she is or not, but a half-demon, half-human hybrid is called a ‘cambion,’ and they can have a lot of powers. Or not. It’s unclear whether Deanna will have any powers, or none, and if she has any, if they’ll be weak or strong. There’s no way to know until we get her to the Bunker, where Cas can apparently do some tests. But Dean thought it was only fair to tell us what we could be walking into, here.”

“Nice of him.” Claire bit at her fingernail on her pinky finger. “Well? Let’s get back on the road. We won’t find out whether she’s got powers or not just sitting here. She still needs to go to Kansas, and we need to take her, so let’s go.”

Jody sighed quietly, but turned the ignition and backed out of the parking space. Claire had a point.

***

In the slightly dingy house in Beulah, North Dakota, Deanna Rose Stinson sat alone on the floor of the bedroom she was currently sharing with three of her cousins, two to a bed. She was playing quietly by herself with some Legos, but she didn’t care about them. She didn’t really like any of the toys here. She didn’t really like the room, the bed, or her cousins, either, particularly. She was used to having her own bed, her own toys, and her own room, and she missed them, and she missed her mommy. 

Deanna Rose was sad that mommy was gone, but mommy had explained it all to her, and she understood. It wasn’t mommy’s fault. Mommy had just been sick and there was nothing more the nice doctor could do; he’d tried his best, but his best wasn’t enough, and that wasn’t his fault, either. Sometimes, mommy had said, bad things just happened, and that was that. Mommy had told Deanna Rose that she was allowed to be sad about it, but she wasn’t allowed to be naughty to Aunt Lilah. So, Deanna had been trying to be good. She knew how to be good.

Deanna Rose knew she was  _ never  _ supposed to be naughty. Bad things happened when Deanna Rose was naughty. Sometimes. She hadn’t had anything to do with her mommy getting sick - that was just a bad thing that just happened.

But the clocks? That had been Deanna Rose. She knew it was. She didn’t want to be told it was time to leave mommy’s room at the hospital, because visiting hours were over. She didn’t want to be told it was time to go to sleep. She didn’t want to be told it was time to get up, or time to eat, or to brush her teeth. Not by Aunt Lilah. She wanted her  _ mommy _ , and if she couldn’t have her mommy? Well, then no one could tell her that it was time to do  _ anything _ . She knew it was naughty, but she didn’t think it was really  _ bad _ . She hoped not, anyway. And other than that, she’d been good. She thought so, anyway. Aunt Lilah hadn’t complained, anyway. Or not more than usual, anyway.

_ Deanna Rose  _

Aunt Lilah had told Deanna Rose that she would be going to live with her daddy soon. Deanna Rose remembered her mommy telling her about her daddy. She said he was a nice man, who had defended mommy’s honor, whatever that meant. He had pretty green eyes, and freckles, and her mommy had liked the way he’d looked - mommy hadn’t said  _ that,  _ exactly, but Deanna Rose could tell. Mommy got this look in her eyes when she talked about her daddy sometimes, like maybe she missed him more than she’d said. But he’d been gone for the whole of Deanna Rose’s life, and Deanna Rose wasn’t sure she could really trust her daddy. 

But when mommy had gotten really sick at the end, and the nice doctor had said there was nothing more he could do for her, mommy had said it was time for her to go and live with daddy, and then she’d had to wait in the hallway while mommy and Aunt Lilah had fought about it. Mommy had pointed out that Aunt Lilah had six kids of her own - three boys and three girls - and no room for another, and Mommy had insisted that Deanna Rose shouldn’t go into “the system,” whatever  _ that  _ was. Deanna Rose didn’t like the sound of “the system.” She didn’t want to go into it, whatever it might be. She’d rather go with a daddy she’d never met, and take her chances there, which mommy wanted for her and approved of, than go “into the system,” of which mommy clearly had  _ not  _ approved. Aunt Lilah had pointed out that mommy didn’t even know how to find Deanna Rose’s daddy, that the only number she’d had for him was long since disconnected. Mommy had said something about how Aunt Lilah would just have to keep looking.

They’d kept fighting for a little while after that, but Deanna Rose had wandered a little ways away, to the nurses’ station, where the nice night nurse had a bowl of sweets she sometimes let Deanna Rose choose from, and she hadn’t heard the rest of what had been said. A few moments later, Aunt Lilah had come out into the hall and told Deanna Rose that it was time to go. She hadn’t even let Deanna Rose go back into mommy’s room to say good night, she’d just taken Deanna Rose’s hand and pulled her along with her in her wake.

That night, mommy had gone to Heaven. Deanna Rose was sure of it. She’d heard the angels talking about it. She had never told anyone about being able to hear the angels, but she’d been able to for as long as she could remember - right up until this past week, shortly after mommy had gone up to Heaven. Then, they’d just stopped talking altogether. It made it a little easier to hear Aunt Lilah, and not be distracted, but Deanna Rose missed the pretty singing that the angelic choirs did in their daily work.

Daddy had sent someone to come and get her, and bring her to where he lived, which was somewhere called “Kansas.” Deanna Rose wondered if it was the same “Kansas” where Dorothy lived in the story that mommy used to read to her sometimes, but she suspected not. She hoped not. She didn’t want to live next door to a bicycle riding witch. If there was a witch living nearby, Deanna Rose thought it might not be naughty to do something about it, but she wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d ask Daddy once she got there. Once she’d decided if she could trust him or not. 

Deanna Rose decided she was bored with the Legos, and she’d rather read her book. She waved her hand, and the Legos returned to their box as she turned to sit on her bed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooboy. ;)
> 
> So, that's how I picture Deanna Rose. ;)
> 
> Please comment!!! :D


	202. It's a Hard Kind of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody and Claire arrive to get Deanna Rose from Lilah's. Jody speaks with Lilah. Claire speaks with Deanna. Later, Jody calls Dean.

Lilah stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Deanna Rose? Deanna Rose! Come down here, please.” She turned to the two women standing next to her and said, “She’ll be down in a sec. Probably reading.”

A small head covered with fire peered around the corner and down the stairs at them. Jody realized quickly that it wasn’t actually fire, but brilliant ginger hair. The head was followed by a slim body, as the girl came slowly down the steps.

“Deanna Rose, these two ladies are here to get you, they’re friends of your daddy’s, and they’ll take you to him,” Lilah told her.

“Right  _ now _ ?” Deanna whispered to her aunt, shocked by the notion that she might actually be leaving right this minute.

“Not right this second, no,” Jody said, cheerfully. “You’ve got time to pack your things and say your goodbyes, certainly.”

Deanna Rose looked up at the lady who’d spoken, and whispered, “But today? We’re leaving today?”

Claire knelt by Deanna’s side and looked her right in the eye. “I know, it’s sudden. But aren’t you just a little curious about your daddy? Don’t you want to meet him? You’ve got an uncle, too. Your daddy’s brother. And we, well, we’re like family, too. You’ve got a whole bunch of people who want to get to know you, but who already love you. So we’re just taking you home to them, that’s all.” Claire smiled gently.

Deanna Rose reached a gentle hand out to touch Claire’s hair. “I like your braid.”

“Thank you. I like your hair, too. It’s like fire, it’s so pretty.”

Lilah sniffed at that, and walked into the kitchen. Jody followed, with a glance at Claire. Claire nodded, and drew Deanna into a conversation, sitting on the bottom stair.

“What was that?” Jody asked Lilah, once they were far enough to not be overheard.

“What was what?” Lilah replied, stiffly.

“That … sniff, when Claire said Deanna’s hair was pretty.”

“The devil’s hair? Everyone knows, gingers’ve got no soul. That child’s different. Her mama was blonde. Way Anne Marie told it, her daddy’s got sandy brown hair, that sound about right?” 

Jody nodded at the description of Dean.

“Well, then, where’d the red hair come from? Ain’t never been no redheads in this family.”

“You said she was different. Is it just the hair, or is there something else?” Jody asked.

“You’ll see. My kids, they’re  _ kids _ . They go outside, run, play, yell. That girl? She sits and reads for hours. She’s only four! She’s got no business even being  _ able _ to read yet, she ain’t been to kindergarten! Shouldn’t even know her ABCs yet. But no, she reads, big long thick books. She’s quiet. Always  _ thinking  _ something. It’s unnatural, is what it is.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Ain’t that enough? But yeah, one thing more. Anne Marie died during the night, after we’d left the hospital. That girl  _ knew _ . She sat bolt upright in bed and screamed, just once. I came in, she looked right at me, and said, ‘she’s gone.’ And that was it. She never cried, never made any kind of fuss, didn’t want to go to the hospital next morning. Just said, ‘what’s the point?’ and went right back to her book. Now, look. I loved my sister. And I’ve tried to love that child, for Anne Marie’s sake, if nothing else. But I think it’s a good thing that she’s got somewhere else to go that isn’t here with my kids, that’s all there is to it. So, you just get on, take her to Kansas, give her to her daddy. I hope things go well for her, but I think it’s just as well if she just stays down there with him from now on. You got me?”

Jody nodded. “Yeah. I got you. We’ll take care of her.”

Lilah nodded slowly back. “Good. Take care of yourselves, too.”

***

“So, you must be Deanna, right? I’m Claire.”

“You’re pretty.”

“Aw, thank you, sweetie. So are you. Your hair, but also, I like your nose.”

“My nose?”

“Yup. Because now that we’re friends, I can do this… boop!” Claire touched her finger to the end of Deanna’s nose, and Deanna giggled.

“You’re silly.”

“Yeah. I know.” Claire grinned. “Why don’t we go upstairs? You can show me your room, and we can start packing up your things, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Deanna looked toward the kitchen. “Aunt Lilah is… well, mommy used to say that she was ‘set in her ways.’ She loves me, but it’s a hard kind of love. Obligation and duty. No emotional attachment.”

_ Deanna Rose  _

Claire blinked, but otherwise didn’t show her surprise. “So, you see that in her, huh?”

Deanna looked slowly up at Claire. “I’m pretty good at reading people. You’re nice. You’ve been through some things, bad things, but you didn’t let it get to you. Through it all, you remembered how to love. That’s good. Some people forget. Like Aunt Lilah. She tries, but she just… can’t. Anyway, c’mon, my room’s up here.” And just like that, the almost adult air dissipated from the girl’s face, and she was just a child again. Claire shook her head as if to clear it as she followed the little girl up the stairs.

***

Dean’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, saw that it was Jody on the Caller ID, and answered the call. “Jodes, what’s up?”

“We’ve got her, Dean. She’s asleep right now, or I’d let you speak to her. We’re back at the motel for the night, and we’ll get on the road first thing in the morning.”

“Already? That was quick.”

“Yeah, well, it’s for the best, believe me.” Jody knew her irritation was showing in her voice.

“Oh? Anything I need to know, Jodes?”

“Well, D, the aunt doesn’t like redheads, and doesn’t like kids who read, and thinks it’s unnatural that your ginger little girl, with hair like fire, at the age of four, knows her ABCs and reads big thick books, preferring that to going outside to run and play and yell. Unlike her own children, who are ‘real kids.’ And your daughter told Claire that her aunt is only capable of ‘a hard kind of love,’ that’s all ‘obligation and duty,’ with ‘no emotional attachment.’ Those are her words, Dean. The kid’s smart. Really smart. Almost scary smart.”

“Well, Sam’ll love that.”

“Dean, she also told Claire something else. She said, ‘you’re nice. You’ve been through some things, bad things, but you didn’t let it get to you. Through it all, you remembered how to love. That’s good.’ Now, you and I both know, that’s all true - but how did a four year old who’s never seen Claire before know that about her?”

Dean swallowed hard, and his voice came out a little raspy. “Okay, that’s a little spooky. Anything else?”

“Not so far. Claire said after that, Deanna went back to being a normal little girl, they went upstairs and packed her things - she doesn’t have much, by the way, you’re going to need to go shopping - while I talked to the aunt. I got her important documents, including a letter from Anne Marie to ‘To Whom It May Concern’ certifying that she is leaving Deanna Rose in your custody upon her death. She did name you on the girl’s birth certificate, too, Dean, so you don’t have to bother about trying to get that changed. Unless….”

“Unless what, Jody?”

“I do still think you ought to have tests done, Dean. I know you’re going to take her and raise her as if she’s your own, no matter what, but I think you should know for sure. Now, that’s just my opinion, and I know you’ll do as you see fit, no matter what I say, but just… think about it, okay?”

“I hear you, Jody.”

“Yeah, you hear me, but you won’t listen. Eh, that’s all right. You’re a good man, Dean Winchester. She’s lucky to have you.”

“Okay, so, when do you think you’ll get her here, Jody?”

“Best guess, by the end of the day, day after tomorrow. It’ll take us at least two days to get there from here, and that’s assuming Claire doesn’t decide to do what I think she’s already planning, which is to take her to the mall and basically just buy her everything there is.”

“Kid’s really got basically  _ nothing _ ?”

“An old coat that looks too small; two pairs of shoes, five pairs of socks, three pairs of pants, four blouses, and a dress. A couple of books. That’s it.”

“She didn’t have any other toys or clothes or anything?” Dean was appalled.

“Lilah said she did have more, at Anne Marie’s apartment. But when Anne Marie’s landlord heard that she had died, with rent past due, he claimed everything else to auction off to cover the past due amount. It’s ridiculous, and probably five kinds of illegal, but I figured you’d rather have us get her to you as soon as possible, and worry about that later, if at all. Realistically, D, whatever she did have is probably gone by now.”

“Yeah, creep probably sold it at a pawn shop, didn’t even wait for auction, I know how those guys are.” Dean’s hand curled into a tight fist.

“So, we can go a little slow, and spoil her a little bit, or we can really haul ass, and get her there ASAP. I think it’d be better for her if we went a little slow, but it’s your call, Dean.”

“Go slow, Jodes. Treat her like fine china. I… I just want the best for her, y’know?”

“Yeah, D. I know. We’ve got her, now. It’ll be okay.”

“She’s already lost her mom, Jodes. I just don’t want anything else bad to happen to her. I haven’t even met her yet, but… but she’s my baby girl.”

“I know, D. We’ll see you in a couple days, then. I’ll keep you posted.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smart, pretty child. Backward, jealous aunt. Bad combination. Clearly it's for the better than the girls have come and gotten Deanna out of there, huh? 
> 
> More art! :)
> 
> Please comment, guys! I want to know what you're thinking of the story as we go along, and...
> 
> I need to know you're all out there, safe and not sick with COVID or anything else. My nephew's getting tested tomorrow, has almost all of the symptoms, but just feels like a mild cold so far. Please keep your fingers crossed! My sister-in-law (his mom) is getting tested, too, as she lost her sense of taste today. *sigh* I hope you're all okay! *distance hugs*


	203. Journaling and Due Diligence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes in his journal. Shann asks Sam about having been Lucifer's vessel.

Dean told Cas that he was going to go write in his journal for a bit. Cas just nodded and touched his arm lightly in support.

Dean walked to their room, seated himself at the desk, got his notebook and pen out of his duffel bag, and turned to a blank page.

***

**_Wednesday, Late Afternoon_ **

_I was going to write down some of the things that Mia and I discussed in therapy this week in this entry; there were a lot of break-throughs, and I want to be able to remember them clearly. Maybe I’ll do a second entry at some point for that._

_For now, I have something else that I need to write about. I feel like my earth has shifted on its axis, and the ground is metaphorically unsteady beneath my feet. And yet, I dare to hope that this news will be good._

_When I got home from our session yesterday - it had been a long one, and I hadn’t had much to eat all day, so I was exhausted and ravenously hungry - I got some food right away, and had intended to sit down and eat and relax with Cas, watch a movie, and maybe talk a little about the therapy stuff. But there was a telephone message, and it said it was important, so I decided to return the call right away, and not wait._

_The woman who had called, Lilah Stinson, said that I don’t know her, we’d never met, but that I knew her sister, Anne Marie Stinson, briefly, about five years ago. I don’t remember Anne Marie, to be perfectly honest; apparently, I was in their town, Beulah, North Dakota, for about two weeks, and during that time, I was sleeping with Anne Marie. It’s a perfectly believable claim, and I have no reason to doubt that it’s true. Anne Marie gave birth to a daughter four and a half years ago, she put my name as father on the birth certificate, and she named the child Deanna Rose, after me. When Anne Marie found out that her cancer was terminal, she told Lilah to find me, and to give the girl to me to raise. That was a few weeks ago; it took Lilah a while to find a phone number for me that worked. In the meantime, Anne Marie died, last week. Lilah has six children of her own, and cannot keep the little girl. Lilah said if I didn’t take her, she’d go into the system. I couldn’t have that._

_But I also couldn’t travel up to North Dakota myself to get her. I’d have had to drive right through South Dakota, and there are still a large number of federal agents present there, at least some of whom would have reason to know my face, and would drop me on sight. So, I called Jody, and asked for a favor._

_I spoke with Cas, and with Sam. Sam recognized the name of the town, Beulah, North Dakota. It was one of the places that Crowley and I stopped on our “Demon Bros” tour. I don’t remember ever having been there, but it was toward the end, when Crowley had gotten tired of being unable to control me, and he’d enabled Sam to track me as far as where we’d been staying. However, he also warned me of that, so I left before Sam arrived. But Sam remembering that much made me understand why I don’t remember any of this - it all happened during the time when I had the Mark, and was a demon._

_And that means that it’s possible that Deanna is half-demon herself - a cambion, a half-human, half-demon hybrid. Sam and I met a cambion just once previously - Jesse Turner. He was 7 or 8 years old, I forget now, and he had the power to warp reality with a thought. He didn’t know he was doing it, he didn’t mean to do bad things. Once he found out he’d been doing them, he put everything back in its original form that could be put back, and then he vanished. We never saw him again._

_Cas took it remarkably well. Told me that it was understandable that I would be a bit flummoxed by the news of a daughter, and that it would be a big responsibility for both of us, this new life that’s been dropped into the midst of ours. I was surprised that he’d assume that Deanna was his responsibility, too, but he just looked at me blankly, and said, “Well, of course, Dean.” He made it clear that he wasn’t leaving, that he loved me, that he assumed I still loved him, that we are getting married, and that this child will be our responsibility, together. I am so grateful for and in love with him. Even when I pointed out the possibility that Deanna could be a cambion, Cas didn’t shrink from it, just said we’d have to wait and see. She might have powers, she might not, and there’s no way to know if she would or how strong they might be until she arrived, and we could test it._

_Jody and Claire drove up this morning. Jody called a few minutes ago, and they’ve already got Deanna and her things with them back at their motel in Beulah; they’ll get on the road in the morning. Jody said Deanna was already fast asleep, so I couldn’t speak to her yet. I thought it was moving maybe a bit too fast to already have taken her out of her aunt’s house, but Jody tells me that the living situation there was not great for Deanna. I don’t think anyone was actively mean to her, but Jody said that Lilah had superstitions against red hair, which Deanna has, and was mistrustful of quiet children who read early and well and voluntarily. Deanna herself told Claire that Lilah loves her, but it’s a “hard” kind of love, based on duty and obligation. I haven’t told Cas that part yet; he just got done telling Claire a few days ago that when Jimmy first died, he felt a similar feeling for her. I don’t want him drawing that parallel, if I can avoid it._

_And that just leaves me, and how I feel about this. It’s such a mixed bag of emotions. I’ve always loved kids. I love Emma and Ben, and I can’t be around them. And now here’s this little girl, clearly bright, Jody says she’s pretty, and apparently she’s mine. She needs me. Her mother’s dead, her aunt’s unable to keep her and probably not the best situation for her anyway, and no child of mine, or who even just might be mine, is going into the system! Not while I have breath. I didn’t expect this. I don’t remember Anne Marie, or even being in the town where she lived. But Sam remembers that I was there, and the timing seems about right. I can’t deny it’s possible, and I don’t want to deny it._

_We were already talking about maybe getting out of hunting. I don’t miss being out on the road. I like being at home. It was different when I was trying to be with Lisa; I wasn’t ready to retire from hunting, then, I just didn’t know what to do once Sam was gone, and once he was back, well, that was that. But I do know what to do with myself, now. I can restore vehicles and get the Salvage Yard up and running again. I can marry the love of my life, and raise my daughter with him._

_There are two thoughts that I hadn’t had, from the moment I spoke with Lilah, until right now. One thought I didn’t have was that I somehow don’t deserve this. Not once did I ever consider whether or not I was worthy of having and raising a daughter. The second thought I didn’t have was to wonder how soon she’d leave me behind. She’s four. She won’t be able to leave for a good long time, and when she does, to go away to college or whatever, it’ll just be because it’s time for her to get out and be on her own. She won’t be abandoning me or leaving me behind. If she goes to college, Cas and I can visit now and then, be the ‘cool dads’ who come and take her and her roommate, or her boyfriend, out to lunch, and spoil her a little bit, before going again to give her her freedom. She’ll come home on holidays, and when she gets married and has kids of her own, they’ll all come to visit me and Cas._

_And I could see it, all of it, so clearly. I haven’t even met this daughter of mine yet, and I can already see a whole future laid out before us like a rich velvet carpet. Because I have faith and I have trust, in me, and in Castiel, that we won’t let anything else happen. We will take our responsibilities to this child seriously, and we will love and protect her, and be her family._

_And I have to say, it feels good to see things that way. To be optimistic, and to believe that it’s justified. Of course, I have concerns. But I’m not thinking that it’s something that I can’t handle, something that I’ll just fuck up. I have a support system. Cas, Sam, Gabe, Jody, Claire. So many others. I don’t have to try to do it all alone. I never did._

_I have to also say, thank you, Mia. I know you say I do all the work, but I couldn’t have made this progress without the tools you gave me. You made it possible. So, really, thank you._

_I have a daughter._

_I have a daughter!_

_***_

Dean capped his pen, and put it and his notebook away, smiling softly as he got up from the desk.

_Dean_

He left the room to go and find Cas. They had some things to discuss, still.

***

“Hey, Sam? Do you have a minute to chat about something?” Shann asked, as they were both getting another cup of coffee.

“Sure, Shann, what’s up?” They each seated themselves at the kitchen table, and Shann took a sip of his coffee while Sam doctored his.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but Lucifer’s made an offer to me, to help with my research. Right now, he’s in Castiel, and that’s not an ideal situation, since Cas and Dean feel awkward being together with Lucifer around. He said that he’s willing to let me drive at all times, to be in charge, and that he’ll just help from within, I’d be the only one who could hear him, like Cas is, now, and he’d leave when I wanted him to. He says he just wants to help, and he encouraged me to ask others’ opinions, and ‘do my due diligence.’ I figure that besides Cas, you’d have the most knowledge of what it’s like to be in a vessel with Lucifer. So, what do you think, Sam?”

“Well, Shann, my views on being Lucifer’s vessel are colored by my experience of it, which wasn’t good. Lucifer was corrupted by the Mark, then. I get that he isn’t, now, but I have no basis for comparison. Cas does. So I think Cas’ opinion would be the better one to go by, in this instance. I will say that Lucifer did a lot of damage to me, and to others. Aside from being corrupt, he was petty and vindictive. And I don’t know how much of that was the Mark, and how much was just him. Or if there even was a ‘him’ left, after he’d had the Mark for millennia. 

“You might want to ask Gabriel; he knew Lucifer _before_ the Mark. He could tell you what Lucifer was like back then. What he’s like now, I don’t know, and can’t say. So, I’m afraid I’m really not much help, Shann. Sorry.” 

Shann nodded. “That’s fair. I guess I just wonder if you think he can be trusted to keep his word about the terms of the deal.”

“The one I’d be most concerned about is whether or not he’d leave when you wanted him to. He’d have to have another vessel ready to go into when he left you, and that’s not something that’s easy to arrange. Not just anyone can even be a vessel, at all, for any angel, much less an Archangel, like Lucifer,” Sam pointed out. “But no, I don’t think he’d actively lie to you, not anymore. He wants to get back in Jack’s favor too much to risk that, for one thing.”

“Good points. Okay, well, thanks, Sam. You gave me some food for thought. And yeah, I will talk to Gabe, too.” Shann took his coffee and headed back to the library.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness, so much progress, Dean! :D I hope that you can all see how much lighter of spirit Dean is now, than at the start of the story. Not just the light in his soul (though yes, that's still important!), but just his whole outlook is lighter now. He's letting himself be happy, letting himself trust it. Yay! :D
> 
> Shann is being smart, asking the people who knew what it was like. He's taking his time and not jumping into anything; of course, it will still require a leap of faith, if he does decide to say yes. What do you all think - should Shann say yes and become Lucifer's vessel, at least temporarily? Or no?
> 
> More art! ;)
> 
> Please comment!! :D


	204. Due Diligence and Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann talks to Gabe about Lucifer's offer. Dean and Cas chat.

Shann was packing up his things for the evening, when Gabriel entered the library.

“Hey, Shann. Sam said you might be looking for me, wanting to talk?”

“Yeah, thanks, if you’ve got a couple of minutes, it won’t take long.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t know if you’re aware, but Lucifer made me an offer.”

“Big bro wants you for a vessel, I take it? Hmm. What were his terms?”

_ Gabriel in the Library  _

“He said he was offering to help with my research. That he’d let me drive at all times, would leave when asked to do so, says he just wants to help. Cas says he’s not lying, which helps, but still. It’s  _ Lucifer _ . Gives one pause.”

“Uh, yeah. If one has a brain, it does. So, what’d you want to ask me?” Gabriel sat down at the conference table and picked up a letter opener lying on the table, twirling it in his fingers as he waited for Shann’s response.

“Sam suggested that you could tell me what Lucifer was like before the Mark, before the Fall. Back when he was uncorrupted.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that. You know, though, that that won’t be how Lucifer is now, even though the Mark is gone, right? You’re not expecting him to revert to what he was before millennia of physical and psychological torture and corruption at the hands of the Mark and the Cage, I hope?”

“No, of course not.” Shann sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just looking for some kind of… baseline, for his behavior. What he would have done, what he would have been like, without all that crap.”

Gabe nodded slowly, considering Shann’s request. “Well. As long as you’re not looking for him to be like he was then. Because he won’t be. Yeah,” Gabe sighed softly. “Yeah, I can tell you what he used to be like.”

Shann set his bag aside, and sat down across from Gabriel at the table. “I’m all ears.”

“That sounds oddly uncomfortable,” Gabe joked. “Let’s see, Lucy before the Fall. Well, he was beautiful, for one thing. He literally shone. He made you feel better about yourself, and made every room he walked into a better space. He was competent - he managed two celestial choirs, when Raph, Mikey, and I could each only barely manage one, and he did it well, and easily. He was a natural leader. Others wanted to follow him, and did. Anything he tried, he did and did well. He was my big brother, even though Michael was older, and I idolized him for a long time. And when Dad locked Lucy away, I missed him, terribly.”

“So, if he says he can help with my research…?”

“He probably can, and will see things that others would miss, including you. He’ll make your work better, because you’ll want to do better than you otherwise would. You won’t be able to help it.”

“I understand that both Nick, his vessel before and after Sam, and Sam, both had to drink demon blood to be able to house him. Obviously, that’s not an issue with Cas being his vessel, but he hasn’t had an entirely human vessel since losing the Mark. Would I…?”

“Unlikely. Most angels, even archangels, are capable of keeping a compatible vessel healthy, although some don’t bother to keep their vessels up. Personally, I think they’re idiots. Now, my vessel was made for me by Loki, so it doesn’t degrade, and I’ve used it for centuries. Cas’ vessel got an upgrade from God when Jimmy, the human who originally inhabited that body, died in an explosion and God brought Cas back. That’s why Cas’ vessel doesn’t degrade. But Nick degraded not because Lucy’s an archangel, or because Lucy wasn’t taking sufficient care of him, but because Lucy bore the Mark, and it tore at Nick’s flesh, literally. That won’t be an issue for you. Since Lucifer’s agreeing to let you be in control, you’ll be able to take care of your body yourself.”

Shann nodded. “Is there a reason you can think of why I should not take Lucifer up on his offer?”

Gabriel thought a moment. “Honestly, Shann, the only thing I can think of is this. Lucifer can say now that he’ll leave if asked to do so, but he’ll need another vessel, and those are difficult to arrange. Not everyone is compatible. Now, he wouldn’t have made this offer to you if he thought it wouldn’t work, and I agree that it’s likely safe for you to be a vessel, but just be aware that it may not be so simple to find another vessel for him to go to, when you want to be done. And if you want to be done in a hurry, well, that might not be possible.”

“Why would I want to be done in a hurry? Give me a ‘for instance.’”

“Well, you’re not dating anyone at the moment, right?”

“Correct.”

“So, let’s say next week you meet the woman of your dreams. Are you going to be comfortable trying to date her with Lucy riding around inside? Remember, that’s one of the reasons why he wants to leave Cas’ vessel - Cas and Dean are finding intimacy awkward with him around. So, you meet this woman, you start to date her. How long are you going to be all right with delaying intimacy so you’re not sharing with Lucy? What if he can’t find a vessel in time? Are you going to be all right with losing her? Hey, you asked for a ‘for instance.’ I’m just giving you what you wanted.”

Shann nodded, then got a look in his eye, and twisted his face as a thought occurred to him. “Sam has two angels riding around in him; does that prevent the two of you from being intimate?”

“No. For one thing, the Michael and Lucifer in Sam’s head aren’t sharing a vessel; they’re contained in his memory palace, and while they have the run of Sam’s brain, they can’t see out and normally don’t know what’s going on unless we clue them in. They might get glimpses in Sam’s memories and dreams, but they’re not in any way able to be active participants. That’s not how it is with Cas and Lucifer, or how it would be if you took Lucy into you.”

“Ah. Thanks for clarifying that. So, other than not being able to find a replacement for me in a hurry, you’re saying there’s no real downside to this deal? Because I don’t have a significant other, and I’m not terribly concerned about having to hold off on being intimate with someone I’ve not yet met and might never meet, if you get my drift.”

Gabe waved his hand extravagantly in the air. “Well, if that’s not a concern for you, and you want to do it, then yeah, I can’t think of any other real issues. Just remember that he will be able to take over; the only thing stopping him from it would be his own honor. Sam was able to wrest control back briefly, long enough to jump into Hell, but that was a one in a million shot. But, if Cas is guaranteeing Lucy’s veracity, you can take the terms to the bank - Lucy can’t lie to Cas while they’re mind to mind, and he won’t be able to lie to you once he’s in your body, either.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Gabe.”

“Sure.”

Shann stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’m going to think on it one more night. Can you let Cas - and by extension, Lucifer - know that I’ll come in tomorrow with a decision, one way or the other?”

Gabe nodded. “Will do, kiddo. Have a good night. Drive safe.”

“Thanks. Night.” Shann left the library. 

Gabe leaned back in his chair, and sighed softly.

_ Lucy, you’d better be playing this straight, bro. _

***

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiled. “When will Jody and Claire be arriving with Deanna?” Cas asked.

“Jody said probably at the end of the day, day after tomorrow, so Friday evening, at the earliest. I told her to take it slow, make sure Deanna’s all right.”

Cas nodded. “That makes sense. And how did the journaling go, my heart?”

“Good. I feel  _ good _ , Cas. It’s been a long time since I had so much to look forward to, but now… we’ve got the wedding, Deanna, the vehicle restoration and the Salvage Yard business, and as I wrote about it all, I realized there was just one thing missing. Know what that was, Cas?” Dean smiled, so Cas squinted a bit.

“No. What?”

“Fear. I wasn’t afraid of screwing things up, I wasn’t afraid of letting you down, or Deanna; I wasn’t afraid that you would leave me, or that I wouldn’t be able to handle things. I realized that I have a support system, a real family, and that we, as a family, can and will be able to handle anything that comes our way. That crippling, agonizing fear of abandonment, that’s _gone_. My old anger and self-loathing? Gone as well. I’m just… I’m just  _ happy _ , Cas.”

Cas grinned. “I can tell. You’re glowing, just a bit, love.”

“Oh, oops!” Dean made a conscious effort, and turned the light in his soul down a bit, until Cas nodded. “Didn’t mean to go leaking radiation on ya.”

“No worries. I’m happy to see you so happy, Dean. I just know that you don’t want everyone seeing that, so I thought I’d better mention it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean grinned. “But at this point? Let ‘em see.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's making progress, and being smart about how they do things, here. Shann's being properly cautious, taking his time, getting his answers, thinking things through. Dean's letting go of his baggage and his fears and letting himself be optimistic. Yay! ;)
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment! :D


	205. Things to Think About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna thinks about taking a day off for the hearing. Shann thinks about Lucifer's offer. Sam thinks about memories and what-ifs.

Donna was working late, typing up some reports, when her cell phone rang with a call from her attorney. “Heya, what’s the good word?”

“I have some news. Looks like the hearing tomorrow morning is going to be pretty short.”

“Oh? That’s in comparison to…?”

“Heh. My paralegal is friendly with one of the file clerks in the Clerk of Courts’ office. The file clerk let slip that the judge was pretty pissed at Doug and his attorney - particularly the attorney - and scheduled the hearing primarily in order to be able to roast the attorney over the coals. But the entire law firm - not just Doug’s attorney, but everyone, down to the clerical staff - got swept up in this investigation. Almost everyone at the firm got arrested by the FBI, and even the ones who didn’t get arrested got sent home. The FBI closed the office, and no one’s been back to work yet, so no one’s answering calls. So the betting pool around the Clerk’s Office is that no one’s gonna show tomorrow. Not Doug, who’s still in jail for violating your restraining order, as the judge denied him bail. Did I remember to tell you that?”

“No! Did he say why?”

“Said he would’ve thought a sheriff with Doug’s experience would know better than to violate a restraining order, and since he obviously needed to be taught a lesson, he intended to do so.”

“Oooh, ouch.”

“Yeah. So, Doug won’t be there. Now, he can skip it, but then he has to be represented by counsel. But his attorney is  _ also _ still in jail, bail denied. That bail hearing was this morning, and it was fairly entertaining as well. His attorney can send someone else, but who’s going to arrange for that, with most of the attorneys in the firm in jail and everyone else sent home? So, it looks like the betting pool may have it right. And if no one shows, even if he hadn’t already been inclined to do so, he’d have to deny their motion for failure to prosecute their case. But that won’t be an issue, because, according to the file clerk, he was going to deny it anyway.”

“Do I need to be there tomorrow?” Donna asked.

“Technically, no, I’ll be there to represent you and you wouldn’t be needed to give testimony, you’ve already provided the court with your sworn affidavit. But if you want to be there for the entertainment value, you’re certainly welcome. It’s just that without anyone from Doug’s side of the case, the entertainment value goes down significantly.”

“Oh, I think that as a law enforcement officer and role model in the community, I should be present at a court hearing for a case involving me.” Donna said it straight, but her attorney laughed anyway.

“Mmhmm. Okay, well, Sheriff, I will see you in the morning. It’s set for 10:00, but with the clocks still being all goofy, it’s probably a good idea to show up early, as in when the courthouse opens, and sit there until the case is called. It’s what I’ve been doing when I have morning hearings.”

“Okie dokie. I’ll let dispatch know that I won’t be in the office in the morning, then.”

“All right. It’s Judge Green’s courtroom, on the second floor; you’re familiar?”

“Oh, you betcha. Just to the right of the elevator that has the torn carpeting on the floor.” Donna nodded to herself, picturing the courthouse layout.

“That’s the one. I’ll see you there, then. Have a good night.”

“Oh, you too. And thanks, I appreciate the heads up on all the news.” Donna ended the call, and chuckled quietly. 

_ Bet that bit Doug’s butt, but good!  _

Donna picked up the office phone and hit the intercom button that connected her to the dispatch non-emergency line.

“Dispatch, Sue speaking.”

“Oh, hey there, Sue, it’s Donna. Listen, I’ve got a court hearing in the morning. It’s not technically until 10:00, but with the clocks being so weird lately, I don’t want to take a chance on being late, y’know? So can you just, real quick, check for me, I think I still have personal time available, but I want to be sure.”

“Oh, sure, Donna, let me have a quick look-see here.” Sue opened the time off requests folder, and flipped to the back; as the boss, Donna’s records were last, at Donna’s insistence. “Oh, yeah, Donna, remember, you started the year with extra time as a carryover? So, you started with a full thirty days, rather than twenty. You used two days in January, five days in February when it snowed so heavy, three days in March, two in April, four in May when you were putting in your garden, five in June when you had the flu so bad, none in July, none in August, one in September when you took the extra day over Labor Day weekend, and four in October. That’s twenty-six. So, you started this month with four, and you haven’t used any so far in November.”

“Okay. Anyone else down as being out tomorrow?” Donna asked.

“Let me look at the main calendar page.” Sue flipped back to the front of the folder and glanced at the calendar print-out she used to keep track of personal time requests. “Nope, no one. You taking one tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, I was thinking I’d just take the morning, but y’know what, I’ll get an early start on Christmas shopping or something, I’ll take the whole day. Thanks, Sue.”

“Oh, sure thing. Okay, I’ve got it marked down that you’re out tomorrow. I’ll let Billy and Clark know. Now, you head home, Sheriff. It’s late. You keep working all this overtime, you’re gonna end up with a boatload of extra personal time next year, too.”

The county commission had voted three years earlier to give the county personnel, including the sheriffs’ office staff, a nice little perk - they had the option of choosing to be paid double time, rather than time and a half, for their overtime, or they could choose to be paid the regular time and a half pay, and take the other half in personal time that got added on to their “bank” for the next year. Donna had opted for the latter option, and it meant she never ran out of personal time - in fact, she’d banked at least an extra ten days’ of personal time each year since they’d voted that perk into being.

“I’m just finishing up a few reports, and then I’ll be headed home, Sue. Thanks for looking for me.”

“No problem. Oh, call coming in, gotta go!” Sue ended the call.

***

Shann entered his apartment, closed the door behind him, put his keys in the dish on the table by the door and dropped his bag next to it, took off his coat and hung it up on its hook, and headed to the refrigerator for a beer. He opened the fridge door, and considered the interior a moment; then pulled out two bottles, instead of just one. Turning, he grinned when he saw that his instincts had been correct.

“Hey, Billie. Beer?”

Billie grinned back. “Yeah, thanks. Tough day?”

“It was okay. Finally got to talk to both Sam and Gabe.”

“Oh, about Lucifer’s offer?”

Shann nodded. “I’m thinking I might say yes. After speaking with Gabe, there’s just this one thing holding me back.” He took his beer over to the couch and sat at one end, waving a hand to indicate that Billie should follow and sit as well.

_ Shann  _

“And what’s that?” Death asked, as she took a seat at the opposite end.

“You.”

***

Gabe entered the room he shared with Sam to find Sam sitting at the desk, his elbows on the desk, fingers steepled together in front of his nose, staring off into what would have been the distance, had the wall not been less than three feet in front of his face. Sam didn’t even look up as Gabriel came into the room, completely lost in thought.

Gabriel leaned to his left, then even further, trying to get a good look at Sam’s face. “Samshine? You all right, there, babe?”

Sam blinked, then glanced over and realized that it was Gabriel. “Oh, hey, Gabe. Hi. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, I’m good.”

“You want to try that once more, with feeling, Sammykins?” Gabriel smiled softly. “You don’t sound fine, and you certainly don’t sound good. What’s up?”

Sam shook his head gently. “Nah, I’m okay. I was just thinking. About, well, about everything. My first therapy session is tomorrow morning, so I was trying to put my thoughts in order a little bit, and I just basically ended up going down the rabbit hole of memory and ‘what if’, y’know? I was just… a little lost in thought. That’s all.”

“All right. Well, how about you take a break from heavy thinking for the night? You can do that tomorrow. How about we do something purely physical for awhile, instead?” Gabe suggested.

Sam quirked his eyebrow. “ _You_ want to go running?”

Gabriel laughed. “Not exactly what I had in mind, Sam.” He leaned down and kissed Sam gently, but thoroughly. 

“Ohhh. _That_ kind of physical.” Sam grinned.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love Donna. :)  
> Anyone else shipping Billie and Shann? ;D  
> Gabe is so good for Sam, isn't he? :D
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment!
> 
> [BTW, my SIL and nephew do, in fact, have COVID - their test results came back positive. My hubby was in contact with them during the 14-day period, so he's getting tested tomorrow, and in the meantime, we're on lockdown again, even from each other. *sigh* This shouldn't impact the story at all, it's just one more thing, y'know?]


	206. Figuring Out What You Want and What You Just Can't Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann and Billie chat, then she makes a phone call. Cas has a talk with Jack.

“I’m thinking I might say yes. After speaking with Gabe, there’s just this one thing holding me back.” Shann took his beer over to the couch and sat at one end, waving a hand to indicate that Billie should follow and sit as well.

“And what’s that?” Death asked, as she took a seat at the opposite end.

“You.”

Billie almost dropped her beer. 

Shann grinned. “Oh, look, I managed to surprise Death.”

“Shut up. You don’t get to be a smart ass about this. What do you mean, me?”

“Look, Billie, we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah….”

 _Billie_

“Best friends, would you say?”

Billie considered, shrugged slightly, then, “Yeah….”

“Well, I’ve always thought that I would want the person with whom I was in a relationship to be my best friend, first. I’m not trying to push anything, here. I’m just saying that I could see that person being you. Maybe not now, but eventually. But who knows how long I might be sharing this vessel with Lucifer, if I say yes to him tomorrow? So, while I’m still alone in here, and I’m clearly not under his influence in any way, I thought it would be best if I spoke my mind and let you know what I was thinking and feeling, and put it to you. So, it’s up to you, Billie. 

“If you say you’re never going to feel that way about me, or can’t, because you’re Death and I’m human, blah blah blah, fine. That’s fine, it doesn’t hurt me, it doesn’t upset me, it’s a perfectly valid way for you to feel. If you say that you think we maybe could have something someday - again, clearly, not now - and you’d be willing to wait until Lucifer and I part ways for some other reason to explore that, that’s fine, too. In either of those scenarios, I’ll go and tell him yes tomorrow, and that’ll be that, until it isn’t. 

“But if you tell me right now that you want something with me beyond friendship, and want to explore that now, and see if it might work, and you don’t want to wait, then I’ll tell Lucifer no. Cas will just have to keep him for the moment, and while I’m sorry for the inconvenience to Dean, that was Cas’ choice, but it doesn’t have to be mine. I just need to know what you want, Billie. Take a few minutes and think about it. I’ll be back in a sec.” 

Shann got up and disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom, and Billie heard a door click shut a second later.

Billie steepled her fingers around her hose, then wiped her eyes. She took a quick deep shuddering breath, stood, and began to pace. How did she feel? What could she allow herself to have? What if… but what if… but…. “Ugh.”

She pulled out her cell phone and made a call. “Boss? You got a minute? Got a couple of questions for you.”

***

Jack was sitting on his bed, pillow in his lap, knees bent, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking slowly back and forth, thinking. He heard a knock at the door, and responded, “Come in.”

Cas entered. “Hello, Jack. You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah.” Jack gestured toward the end of his bed. “Have a seat, Dad.”

Cas smiled softly, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “How are you, Jack?”

“I think the word for this emotion is shame. I feel badly about how I cut you off before. You were trying to give me options, and I didn’t handle it very well. Here I am, trying to prove that I’m mature and responsible, and then I bite your head off. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it, Jack?”

“About Lucifer? To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t know what to say. I know that you’ve said he no longer bears the Mark, and that’s a good thing, I know. But that doesn’t mean he’s _good_. I mean, he got locked up in the first place; what was the reason for _that_? We know what _he_ says about it, but there’s always another side to the story. We haven’t heard my grandfather’s side of it. And probably won’t. And that leaves me unable to trust Lucifer. I assume he can hear me, right?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, he can. And he sympathizes with you. He isn’t blaming you for your distrust, at all, Jack. He knows he’s made mistakes, not just back at the beginning of time, with Father, but with you, as well.”

“How do you know that’s real and not just a manipulation, though, Dad?”

“Well, he and I are mind-to-mind, Jack. You’ve never shared a vessel, so you wouldn’t know, but when you do, you _can’t_ lie to whoever’s in there with you. Your mind is an open book. He knows what I know, and I know what he knows. He literally cannot manipulate me, right now, Jack. It isn’t possible.”

“So, you’re saying that you’re vouching for him, then?” Jack asked.

“Well, about what he thinks and says right now, yes. He isn’t lying to me when he says he wants to try to fix things with you. He isn’t lying when he tells me that he loves you, Jack. He knows that Sam, Dean, and I have raised you, and that you’re not going to consider him more than the DNA donor, at least at first. He understands, and he’s not angry. He gets it, Jack. He just wants a chance to talk.” Cas sighed softly.

“You’re sad. Not him, you. Why?”

“Because I believe in second chances, Jack. You’ve made mistakes, too. We’ve given you opportunities to redeem them. I’ve made mistakes; Sam and Dean have always helped me to redeem mine, one way or another, even when they were the ones most hurt. No one’s perfect, Jack. But when someone is truly sorry for their mistakes, and wants to try to fix things, I try to let them. I thought that was what I was raising you to do, as well. Isn’t it?”

Jack thought, and nodded slowly. “So, you think I should forgive and forget?”

“Not necessarily forget. You remember what someone’s done to you so that if they try to do it again, you’re not caught blind. But if they’re sorry, you forgive, and that forgiveness heals you, as well. You can’t put the past behind you until you forgive those who have wronged you. You have to accept that something happened, accept their apology, forgive them, and let go of the hurt - or you can’t move forward, for you. Helping them is secondary. But put yourself in Lucifer’s shoes. When you accidentally killed Mary, Jack, what would you have done to gain Dean’s forgiveness?”

“Anything!”

“Exactly. But, in fact, Dean forgave you without you having to do anything. Because he loves you. And now, Lucifer would do just about anything to gain your forgiveness. Now, whether or not you decide to forgive him, or when, is up to you. It doesn’t have to be right now. I’m just saying, maybe consider it?”

“For myself, or for Lucifer?”

“Maybe for both of you.” Cas smiled.

Jack nodded. “Okay. I… I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Cas nodded. “All I’m asking for, Jack. Oh, and by the way, did Dean mention that he just found out he has a daughter? I didn’t know if he’d had an opportunity to speak to you yet.”

“Ah, no. A daughter?”

“Yeah. Dean didn’t know about her until last night. She’s four; her name is Deanna. Her mother died of cancer last week. Apparently, her aunt had been looking for Dean for a while and only just yesterday found a phone number for him that worked. Jody and Claire went to go pick her up, and they’ll have her here probably by the end of the day on Friday, or maybe Saturday morning.”

“Is Dean okay?”

“He is. Bit of an adjustment, but I think he’s excited.”

“And you, Dad? I mean, the two of you are getting married. So, you’re going to help raise her, right?”

“That’s the plan, yes. We’ll need your help, too, Jack. You’ll have to be very patient with her.”

“Of course, Dad.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Cas ruffled Jack’s hair gently. Jack chuckled and ducked his head. “Hey, kiddo, one more thing. Dean and I wanted to know if you would stand up with us in our wedding, along with Sam, Gabe, and Claire. Sam will be Dean’s Best Man, and Gabe will be mine. Claire is going to be my Maid of Honor, and Dean would like for you to be his other groomsman, so that we have both of our brothers, and both of our kids. And maybe we’ll have Deanna be a flower girl. So, what do you think, will you do it?”

“Yeah, that’d be cool, Dad, thanks for asking.” Jack grinned at Cas.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's not that Billie and Shann will necessarily ever become romantically involved, it's more that Shann's willing to explore it, if she is. But if she's not, or if she's willing to wait, then he'll go off and say yes. We may not ever see them actually romantically paired. For now, and even if she tells him to say 'no', they're still just friends.  
> Cas is giving Jack some pretty good advice about forgiveness, there. It's true, you can't let go of past hurts until you forgive whoever did them to you...even if that's yourself. That's one of the things that Dean's been learning, too. That he has to forgive himself as much as anyone else, in order to let go of the past and move forward. And every time he does, he's a little happier.  
> ;)
> 
> More art!
> 
> Please comment! I love hearing from you, and want to know what you think. :D


	207. Death's a Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billie talks to the Boss. Shann and Billie chat.

Billie steepled her fingers around her nose, then wiped her eyes. She took a quick deep shuddering breath, stood, and began to pace. How did she feel? What could she allow herself to have? What if… but what if… but…. “Ugh.”

She pulled out her cell phone and made a call. “Boss? You got a minute? Got a couple of questions for you.”

From behind her, Billie heard the old man’s surprisingly strong voice. “What is it _now_ , Billie? I know the Winchesters have been keeping you, and their assigned reapers, busy lately. But I thought we had decided that I was going to stay ‘dead?’”

Billie turned, and smiled at the Horseman. “Sir, with all respect, Dean should have realized immediately that you weren’t _really_ dead.”

 _Death_

“Yes, well. Dean Winchester is terrified of me. I believe I may be just about the only thing he has ever truly feared. Not that he needed to be afraid of me, since he and Sam can’t actually die permanently; but of course, _he_ doesn’t know that, and I wasn't about to tell him. Leverage is useful. But since he _was_ afraid of me, he wasn’t likely to examine my 'death,' and my being off the game board, so to speak, very carefully.” Death smiled at his eldest daughter. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“Shann.”

“Ah, yes. Your young friend that’s working for Sam Winchester. Don’t think I didn’t notice him in my library the other day.”

“Well, you did say I should feel free to use it, Father.”

“I meant to scare Dean, and _just that one time_ , but it’s fine. But I assume that _now_ we’re in Shann’s apartment? Why am I _here_?”

Billie explained the situation. “He’ll be back in a minute. I need to know what I’m _allowed_ to say, here. If I were _really_ Death, I wouldn’t be able to say yes, and Dean, or one of the angels, might notice that, if I did. But if I say _no_ ….”

“Then your best friend, with whom you might want to explore a further relationship, would be sharing a vessel with Lucifer, albeit without the Mark, but for who knows how long, quite possibly longer than we had originally intended this little ruse to stretch. Yes. I quite see the dilemma.” Death nodded, then continued.

“Well, what do you _want_ to do, my dear? If it were entirely up to you, what would you say to Shann’s question? And don’t worry about him coming back right away, I’ve put him... on hold for the moment. It won’t harm him, he won’t even notice, but it will let us have this little discussion in peace.” 

“Honestly, I don’t know, Dad. I’ve never even contemplated having a human _friend_ before. I’ve been sort of _friendly_ with Sam and Dean and Cas and Gabe, on occasion, but I doubt any of them would invite me in to sit and watch the game while I ate the last of their pizza and drank their last beer, as Shann did. We’re not at the romance stage, as he said himself, but, like he also said, I could see us getting there, someday. But if we have to put everything on hold? I just don’t know. That’s why I called. I don’t know what to do.” Billie threw up her hands in frustration.

“Billie. Just tell me this. Do you care for Shann?” Death asked.

Billie paused, then looked up into her father’s eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

“You don’t want to have to wait to see if there really could be something more there, do you?” he continued, gently.

Billie shook her head. “I really don’t.”

Death took a step forward, and pulled his eldest into his arms gently; Billie collapsed into them and wept a little on her father’s shoulder. “Shhh, it’s all right. I understand. Did you really think I’d let my daughter suffer, if there was any other choice? Shhh. There, there. We’ll make it all work out, I promise.”

Billie wiped her eyes and straightened up. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course. You’ll always be my baby, my Billie, my first born.” Death looked at his eldest with pride shining in his eyes. “You, and Tessa, my sweet girls, my pride and joy, the two of you.” 

“I was actually kind of surprised you didn’t have Tessa step in for you. She knew Dean as well as I did, after all; maybe even a little better than I did.”

“Tessa was a little too close to the situation, and she saw it herself. She had a little bit of a crush on Dean, but Castiel is Dean’s true soulmate; she asked to be relieved. And with Castiel thinking you had died, it made sense to ‘promote’ you to the ‘new Death.’ As if the universe could have gone without me for as long as that. Nearly two years went by between the day Dean supposedly killed me, and the day on which Castiel supposedly killed you, promoting you. Considering that in his little experiment wearing my ring, Dean couldn’t go ten minutes without having to kill someone, how did they think deaths were happening in the meantime? Tsk tsk.”

“Like I said, Sir, they should have realized, and I’m honestly surprised they haven’t.”

“Well, neither here nor there. They haven’t. Let me see, now. How to allow ‘Death’ to have a potential relationship with a human without ‘the boys’ getting suspicious… let me think a minute. I don’t suppose you have any potato chips? I find I’m a bit peckish.”

“You’ll spoil your supper, Dad. Mom’ll get ticked at me for giving you junk food.” Billie grinned, and handed the Horseman a small bag of ruffled potato chips.

“What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt me, daughter mine.”

“You hope so, anyway.” Billie laughed.

“Hush. I’m thinking.” Death munched on a couple of chips, then sighed. “Well, I’m sorry, my dear, but I am honestly stumped. I can’t think of a way for your friend to say ‘no’ to Lucifer that wouldn’t tip off _someone_ to the fact that you’re not really Death, just playing the role within a 100-mile radius around the Winchesters. 

“But how about this, instead? What if I could find an alternate, brain dead, vessel for Lucifer? I seem to recall there was a demon once...oh, yes. It was Ruby. How ironic, she used the ploy due to Sam Winchester’s objections over her possession, if I recall correctly. She said she was ‘recycling.’

“Anyway, Lucifer could help your Mr. Murray for a few months with the research projects, and then this alternate vessel could suddenly become available, one who is actually a better match for Lucifer’s needs. Shann might be done with the research by then, and even if he’s not, as the vessel would be already empty, Lucifer could continue to help out, but from his own body. A few months would give me time to look for a good fit for Lucifer, and allow your Mr. Murray to say ‘yes’ temporarily, which doesn’t blow _your_ cover. Would that work for you, my dear?”

“Well, yes. It’s not like Shann and I couldn’t continue our friendship in the meantime. I could tell him that I’ve thought about it, and I think he should accept the research assistance, but that I will keep an eye out for an alternate vessel for Luci.” Billie smiled at her father. “I think that just might work!”

Death smiled. “I’m happy I could help you out a little, my dear. Now, I’d better take the hold off your Mr. Murray, and get myself home for supper, before your mother really does get angry with me.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

***

A few moments later, Shann wandered back out to the living room and sat back down on the couch.

“So, what are you thinking, Billie?” he asked her, taking a small pull on his beer.

‘Well, I had a thought that might be kind of a mid ground,” Billie told him.

“Okay, let’s hear it.” Shann leaned forward in interest. 

“I think you should say ‘yes’ to Lucifer, and let him help you with your research. But, in the meantime, I’ll keep an eye out for an alternate, potentially better, vessel for him. One that’s already empty, that he wouldn’t have to share with anyone, and then Lucifer could continue to help you, but from his own body. That would give me some time to look for a good fit for Luci, and gets you the research help you need, and in the meantime, it’s not like we can’t continue to be friends, right? And then once a vessel is found, he switches, and if we’re still thinking of potentially heading in the romance direction, we’d be free to do so, but your research wouldn’t have to suffer at all in the meantime.”

Shann blinked a few times, taking it in. “So, you want me to say ‘yes’, then?”

“Just in the interim, while I’m looking for a better vessel for Lucifer, one he wouldn’t need to share.”

“So, one where the… original occupant, I guess, was, what, brain dead?” Shann asked.

“Something like that, yeah. Of natural causes, nothing that would hurt Lucifer, and nothing nefarious involved.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No. Just turning it over in my head. I was thinking it had to be all one way or the other, I wasn’t thinking there’d be any kind of half-way solution. Gabe had pointed out how difficult it could be to find another vessel for Lucifer, and so, I was figuring I’d probably either say no, or say yes, and go into it and be stuck with it for years. But Gabe obviously wasn’t thinking of having Death look for a replacement vessel. Yeah, I think that what you’ve suggested would probably be the best of all possible worlds.” Shann’s face started to clear, his eyes rising from the couch, where he’d been staring, to meet Billie’s. “You’re brilliant.”

“I just remembered something my predecessor mentioned to me once, about a demon who took an empty, brain dead vessel for herself. She said she was ‘recycling’ the body, being socially conscious. I figured the same thing might work, here.”

Shann grinned, and raised his beer in a silent toast.

Billie smiled back, and clinked her bottle to his. She took a short swig, thinking.

_Crisis averted._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a few revelations in that chapter! Death isn't really dead; Billie's not really Death; Billie and Tessa are Death's daughters; Death's apparently married; and Sam and Dean can't permanently die! Eep! ;D
> 
> As I said last chapter, Billie and Shann are still just friends, and will likely remain so for the rest of this story. I may come back and do a separate bit about just the two of them as part of the series, but there's too much going on in this story for them to have a romance, too. But I wanted to bring Death back in to the mix, so.... ;)
> 
> More art! :)
> 
> Please comment!
> 
> [Update: my hubby's COVID test was negative; he's fine, just had a cold for a few days. My SIL and nephew are recovering slowly at home; they feel generally miserable, but it seems they got a pretty light case, all in all. Yay! I'm fine. Let me know how you're all doing, please!]


	208. Hearing on Doug's Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judge Green hears Doug's motion. It doesn't go well for Doug.

STATE OF MINNESOTA

DISTRICT COURT, WASHINGTON COUNTY, STILLWATER DIVISION

HANSCUM, DONNA, 

Plaintiff,

v. 

Case No. F4-18-108888 (Closed)

KONTOS, DOUG,

Defendant.

\-----

HEARING ON MOTION TO REOPEN CLOSED DIVORCE CASE FILE

(Rough Transcript, Ordered by Counsel for Plaintiff Hanscum)

Proceedings Before the Hon. Robert E. Green

Thursday, November 21, 2019, 

at approx. 10:00 AM (all times approximate due to worldwide clock failures of unknown origin)

MARGERIE HENDRICKS, COURT REPORTER

\-----

I, Margerie Hendricks, a certified court reporter employed by the District Court of Washington County, Stillwater Division, do hereby certify, to the best of my recollection and skill, this to be an accurate, albeit rough, transcript of the foregoing proceedings, as taken by me personally during the foregoing court session.

_/s/ Margerie Hendricks_

\-----

 **BAILIFF:** ALL RISE. OYEZ, OYEZ, OYEZ. DISTRICT COURT FOR THE COUNTY OF WASHINGTON - STILLWATER DIVISION, STATE OF MINNESOTA, HONORABLE ROBERT E. GREEN, DISTRICT COURT JUDGE, PRESIDING. ALL THOSE WITH BUSINESS BEFORE THE COURT, DRAW NEAR AND GIVE YOUR ATTENTION, AS THE COURT IS NOW IN SESSION.

 **JUDGE GREEN:** MISTER BAILIFF, CALL THE FIRST CASE, PLEASE.

 **BAILIFF:** YOUR HONOR, THE FIRST AND ONLY CASE ON THE DOCKET FOR THE EARLY SESSION THIS MORNING IS HANSCUM V. KONTOS, CASE NUMBER F4-18-108888. THIS CLOSED FAMILY CASE FILE IS BEING REOPENED ON THE MOTION OF THE DEFENDANT HUSBAND, DOUG KONTOS, BY AND THROUGH COUNSEL, ON THE GROUNDS THAT THE PLAINTIFF WIFE, DONNA HANSCUM, APPEARING HERE BY AND THROUGH COUNSEL, DID ALLEGEDLY HIDE FUNDS IN HER POSSESSION, IN THE AMOUNT OF SEVEN HUNDRED FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS, FROM BOTH THE DEFENDANT AND THIS COURT THROUGHOUT THE DURATION OF THE PROCEEDINGS. THE MOTION WAS BROUGHT PURSUANT TO MINNESOTA STATUTE SECTION 518.145(2)(2) AND (3).

 **JUDGE GREEN:** THANK YOU, MISTER BAILIFF. AT THIS TIME, PLEASE READ INTO THE RECORD THE REFERENCED STATUTE SECTIONS.

 **BAILIFF:** YES, YOUR HONOR. THE RELEVANT-AS-CITED PORTIONS OF SECTION 518.145(2) STATE AS FOLLOWS:

> On motion and upon terms as are just, the court may relieve a party from a judgment and decree, order, or proceeding under this chapter, except for provisions dissolving the bonds of marriage, annulling the marriage, or directing that the parties are legally separated, and may order a new trial or grant other relief as may be just for the following reasons: ...
> 
> (2) newly discovered evidence which by due diligence could not have been discovered in time to move for a new trial under the Rules of Civil Procedure, [AND]
> 
> (3) fraud, whether denominated intrinsic or extrinsic, misrepresentation, or other misconduct of an adverse party.

**JUDGE GREEN:** THANK YOU, MISTER BAILIFF. IS COUNSEL FOR THE MOVANT PRESENT IN THE COURTROOM AT THIS TIME? CALLING COUNSEL FOR MOVANT DEFENDANT-HUSBAND DOUG KONTOS.

**[CR’s Note: There was a brief pause in the proceedings, as it was determined that Defense Counsel was not present in the courtroom.]**

**BAILIFF:** YOUR HONOR, IT APPEARS THAT NEITHER DEFENDANT KONTOS NOR HIS COUNSEL ARE PRESENT IN THE COURTROOM AT THIS TIME.

 **JUDGE GREEN:** THANK YOU, MISTER BAILIFF. I UNDERSTAND THAT THE PLAINTIFF-WIFE, DONNA HANSCUM AND HER COUNSEL ARE, HOWEVER, PRESENT; IS THAT CORRECT?

 **ATTY. WEIDERMEYER:** YES, YOUR HONOR. MY CLIENT AND I ARE BOTH IN ATTENDANCE TODAY. 

**JUDGE GREEN:** AND DID YOU HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANTED TO BRING TO THE COURT’S ATTENTION, ATTORNEY WEIDERMEYER?

 **ATTY. WEIDERMEYER:** YES, THANK YOU, YOUR HONOR. AS YOU KNOW FROM OUR BRIEF, THE PLAINTIFF DID NOT, IN FACT, HAVE THE REFERENCED FUNDS IN HER POSSESSION, NOR WAS SHE AWARE THAT THE FRIEND WHO GAVE HER THE FUNDS AS A GIFT WAS PLANNING TO DO SO, UNTIL MORE THAN ONE YEAR FOLLOWING THE CLOSE OF THESE DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, AND THEREFORE THE DEFENDANT-HUSBAND’S MOTION IS OUT OF TIME. I WANTED TO POINT OUT TO THE COURT, IN ADDITION TO THE MATERIAL IN OUR BRIEF, THAT THE REASON WHY DEFENDANT AND DEFENSE COUNSEL ARE NOT CURRENTLY PRESENT IN THIS COURT IS THAT BOTH DEFENDANT AND HIS COUNSEL ARE CURRENTLY IN JAIL, HAVING BEEN DENIED BAIL, AND THAT THE REASONS WHY ARE INTIMATELY CONNECTED TO THE INSTANT MOTION, YOUR HONOR.

 **JUDGE GREEN:** REALLY? HOW SO, COUNSEL?

 **ATTY. WEIDERMEYER:** YOUR HONOR, THE LAW FIRM IN WHICH DEFENDANTS’ COUNSEL IS A PARTNER HAS BEEN CLOSED DOWN BY THE FBI IN THE WAKE OF AN INVESTIGATION INTO CONDUCT THAT VIOLATES SEVERAL FEDERAL BANKING AND BANK PRIVACY STATUTES, AS WELL AS POTENTIALLY CERTAIN STATE LAWS ON THE SAME TOPIC. THE FBI AND THE DEPARTMENTS OF HOMELAND SECURITY AND TREASURY, AS WELL AS THE SECRET SERVICE, ARE CONDUCTING THAT JOINT INVESTIGATION, AND HAVE SO FAR DETERMINED THAT DEFENSE COUNSEL’S FIRM, AS WELL AS SEVERAL OTHERS IN SEVERAL STATES, INCLUDING IOWA, SOUTH DAKOTA, NORTH DAKOTA, AND WYOMING, CONVINCED CERTAIN BANKS TO DIVULGE CLIENT INFORMATION TO THOSE LAW FIRMS WHENEVER AN AMOUNT EXCEEDING $10,000 WAS WITHDRAWN FROM OR DEPOSITED INTO AN ACCOUNT AT THOSE BANKS. 

IN THIS PARTICULAR CASE, YOUR HONOR, MY CLIENT’S FRIEND, CLAIRE NOVAK, RECEIVED A PAYOUT OF HER LATE FATHER’S LIFE INSURANCE PROCEEDS, AND DECIDED TO MAKE GIFTS TO SEVERAL FRIENDS AND FAMILY MEMBERS, INCLUDING MY CLIENT. SOME OF THE RECIPIENTS RECEIVED AS MUCH AS ONE MILLION DOLLARS EACH; SOME, INCLUDING MY CLIENT, RECEIVED SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS EACH. 

UPON MS. NOVAK’S REQUEST TO HER BANK TO HAVE THE REQUESTED AMOUNTS EITHER SENT VIA WIRE TRANSFER OR HANDED TO HER VIA CASHIER’S CHECK, THE TELLER AT HER BANK NOTIFIED THE IRS AND FDIC, AS REQUIRED BY LAW, BUT THEN ALSO NOTIFIED THE LAW FIRMS THAT WERE PART OF THE FRAUDULENT SCHEME, BELIEVING THOSE FIRMS TO BE OUTSIDE COUNSEL TO FEDERAL GOVERNMENT AGENCIES. ONE OF THOSE FIRMS WAS DEFENSE COUNSEL’S FIRM, AND DEFENSE COUNSEL THUS LEARNED THAT MY CLIENT WAS ABOUT TO RECEIVE A SUBSTANTIAL SUM OF MONEY. 

DESPITE BEING OUTSIDE THE TIME FOR REOPENING A DIVORCE CASE, THEY FILED THE INSTANT MOTION, AND MAILED A COPY OF IT TO MY CLIENT, DESPITE KNOWING THAT MY CLIENT WAS REPRESENTED BY COUNSEL, WITHOUT ALSO PROVIDING A COPY TO ME. MY CLIENT THUS RECEIVED A COPY OF THE MOTION IN THE MAIL LESS THAN 24 HOURS AFTER SHE HAD DEPOSITED THE FUNDS INTO HER OWN BANK.

WHEN THE INVESTIGATION LED TO DISCOVERY OF THE INVOLVEMENT OF DEFENSE COUNSEL’S FIRM, THE FIRM WAS CLOSED BY THE FBI, AND DEFENSE COUNSEL WAS ARRESTED, ALONG WITH EVERY OTHER ATTORNEY IN THE FIRM. AT THE BAIL HEARING EARLIER THIS WEEK, JUDGE WIGANT DENIED BAIL TO EACH ATTORNEY.

UPON LEARNING THAT HIS ATTORNEY HAD BEEN ARRESTED, DEFENDANT KONTOS, THE SHERIFF OF ANOTHER COUNTY - AS PLAINTIFF HANSCUM IS SHERIFF IN THIS COUNTY, AS YOUR HONOR IS AWARE - CALLED MY CLIENT AT HER OFFICE TO THREATEN HER. UPON LEARNING OF THE THREATS MADE, I SOUGHT AND OBTAINED A RESTRAINING ORDER AGAINST DEFENDANT KONTOS ON MY CLIENT’S BEHALF. THAT ORDER WAS SERVED UPON HIM AT HIS PLACE OF BUSINESS, THE SHERIFF’S STATION IN HIS COUNTY, THAT SAME DAY. 

LATER THAT SAME DAY, DESPITE HAVING BEEN PERSONALLY SERVED WITH THE RESTRAINING ORDER, DEFENDANT KONTOS ACCOSTED MY CLIENT OUTSIDE HER HOME, PUSHED HER UP AGAINST A WALL, MADE ADDITIONAL THREATS TO HER PERSONAL SAFETY, AND INVADED HER HOME. I WOULD POINT OUT, YOUR HONOR, THAT THE HOUSE WHERE MY CLIENT NOW RESIDES IS NOT THE MARITAL HOME, BUT ONE SHE PURCHASED AFTER THE DIVORCE WAS FINAL, AND IN WHICH DEFENDANT HAS NEVER RESIDED AND TO WHICH PROPERTY HE HAS NO RIGHTS. 

MY CLIENT MANAGED TO DIAL HER DISPATCHER ON HER CELL PHONE WHILE OPENING THE DOOR TO THE HOME. SHE KEPT THE DISPATCHER ON THE LINE, AND THE DISPATCHER SENT TWO DEPUTIES, RUNNING QUIET, SO AS NOT TO ALARM THE DEFENDANT; BOTH THE DISPATCHER AND THE TWO DEPUTIES WERE ABLE TO HEAR THE CONVERSATION BEING HAD BETWEEN THE PARTIES. WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT PLAINTIFF’S HOME, THE DEPUTIES OBSERVED THE DEFENDANT BEING BELLIGERANT AND THREATENING TO THE PLAINTIFF. 

THE DEPUTIES MANAGED TO DE-ESCALATE THE SITUATION, PURSUANT TO THEIR TRAINING, AND ARRESTED THE DEFENDANT FOR VIOLATION OF THE RESTRAINING ORDER WITHOUT FURTHER DAMAGE TO LIFE, PERSON, OR PROPERTY. AT THE BAIL HEARING ON THAT SEPARATE MATTER EARLIER THIS WEEK, JUDGE PETRIE ALSO DENIED BAIL TO THE DEFENDANT. 

YOUR HONOR, I HAVE AN AFFIDAVIT FROM MS. NOVAK, MY CLIENT’S FRIEND WHO GAVE HER THE GIFT, WITH REGARD TO THE DATES ON WHICH THE MONEY WAS RECEIVED BY MS. NOVAK FROM THE INSURANCE COMPANY, DEPOSITED TO MS. NOVAK’S BANK, WITHDRAWN BY MS. NOVAK TO A CASHIER’S CHECK, AND THEN GIVEN TO MY CLIENT BY MS. NOVAK.

I ALSO HAVE AN AFFIDAVIT FROM SHERIFF MILLS IN SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA; SHE FIRST DISCOVERED THE FRAUDULENT SCHEME INVOLVING THE BANKS AND THE LAW FIRMS, AND BROUGHT IT TO THE FEDERAL AGENCIES’ ATTENTION, AND THEY ALLOWED HER TO EXPLAIN THE INTRICACIES OF THE SITUATION FOR THIS COURT’S UNDERSTANDING.

I ALSO HAVE AFFIDAVITS FROM THE DISPATCHER AND THE DEPUTIES INVOLVED IN THE HOME ALTERCATION BETWEEN THE PARTIES, AND AN AFFIDAVIT FROM MY CLIENT, WHO IS ALSO HAPPY TO PROVIDE TESTIMONY IF YOUR HONOR HAS ANY UNRESOLVED QUESTIONS FOR HER.

MAY I APPROACH AND HAND THE REFERENCED MATERIALS UP TO YOU, YOUR HONOR?

 **JUDGE** **GREEN:** YOU MAY. THE RECORD WILL REFLECT THAT THE REFERENCED MATERIALS HAVE BEEN RECEIVED BY THE COURT AND ARE HEREBY INTRODUCED INTO THE RECORD. THANK YOU, COUNSEL. PLEASE CONTINUE.

 **ATTORNEY WEIDERMEYER:** THANK YOU, YOUR HONOR.

IN SHORT, YOUR HONOR, THE INSTANT MOTION SHOULD BE DENIED ON SEVERAL GROUNDS. IT WAS BROUGHT TOO LATE PURSUANT TO THE CLEAR TERMS OF THE STATUTE IN WHICH IT WAS BASED. IT RELIES ON FUNDS THAT WERE NOT IN THE POSSESSION OF MY CLIENT, NOR EVEN OF HER FRIEND WHO GAVE THE FUNDS TO MY CLIENT AS A GIFT, DURING NEITHER THE MARRIAGE NOR THE DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, NOR DURING THE ALLOWABLE TIME FRAME UNDER THE STATUTE. THE GIFT WAS GIVEN BY MS. NOVAK TO MY CLIENT IN HER INDIVIDUAL CAPACITY, NOT TO THE MARRIED COUPLE - AND, INDEED, AT THE TIME THE GIFT WAS GIVEN, THERE WAS NO LONGER A MARRIED COUPLE IN EXISTENCE, HERE - AND WAS THEREFORE MY CLIENT’S INDIVIDUAL PROPERTY, NOT MARITAL FUNDS, AND WOULD HAVE BEEN, EVEN IF IT HAD BEEN GIVEN DURING THE MARRIAGE. THE MEANS AND METHOD OF SERVICE WAS BOTH DEFICIENT AND IN VIOLATION OF THE RULES OF PROFESSIONAL RESPONSIBILITY. IT APPEARS THAT THE MOTION WAS FILED WITHOUT AN EXPLANATORY BRIEF, DENYING MY CLIENT THE ABILITY AND MEANS TO ADEQUATELY RESPOND. AND FINALLY, YOUR HONOR, NEITHER THE MOVANT NOR HIS COUNSEL BOTHERED TO APPEAR OR MAKE ARRANGEMENTS FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO APPEAR ON MOVANT’S BEHALF, THUS DEFAULTING ON THE MOTION.

THEREFORE, YOUR HONOR, MY CLIENT NOT ONLY REQUESTS THAT THIS MOTION BE DENIED, BUT FURTHER MOVES FOR AN ORDER FROM THIS COURT REQUIRING DEFENDANT TO REIMBURSE HER FOR ALL ATTORNEYS’ FEES AND COSTS INCURRED IN HAVING TO RESPOND TO THIS RIDICULOUS MOTION AND APPEAR THIS HEARING THIS MORNING. FINALLY, YOUR HONOR, MY CLIENT WOULD NOT OBJECT TO, AND IN FACT, WE SUGGEST, THAT YOUR HONOR FURTHER ORDER DEFENDANT TO REIMBURSE THE COURT FOR ITS TIME AND COSTS, AS WELL, AS THE MOTION WAS PURELY FRIVOLOUS. 

THANK YOU, YOUR HONOR.

 **JUDGE GREEN:** THANK YOU, COUNSEL.

ATTORNEY WEIDERMEYER, I APPRECIATE BEING KEPT APPRISED OF THE STATUS OF THE FEDERAL INVESTIGATION, AS WELL AS DEFENDANT’S VIOLATION OF A RESTRAINING ORDER, AND I COMMEND YOU AND YOUR CLIENT ON HAVING THE PRESENCE OF MIND TO, FIRST, OBTAIN THE ORDER, AND, SECOND, SILENTLY CALL THE DISPATCHER. SHERIFF HANSCUM, I HAVE KNOWN BOTH YOU AND THE DEFENDANT IN YOUR PROFESSIONAL CAPACITIES FOR YEARS NOW, AND WHILE I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFICULTY IN BELIEVING THAT YOU ACTED WITH GRACE AND POISE UNDER SUCH STRESSFUL CIRCUMSTANCES, I AM SHOCKED AT THE BEHAVIOR OF THE DEFENDANT. 

THIS COURT HEREBY DENIES THE DEFENDANT’S MOTION TO REOPEN THIS FAMILY COURT CASE FILE, AND FOR ANY AMOUNT OF THE FUNDS THAT WERE PART OF MS. NOVAK’S GENEROUS GIFT TO THE PLAINTIFF. THE MOTION IS DENIED ON ALL OF THE FOLLOWING GROUNDS, DESPITE THE COURT NEEDING ONLY ONE BASIS FOR ITS DENIAL. 

FIRST, THE GIFT BY MS. NOVAK WAS A GIFT TO THE PLAINTIFF AS AN INDIVIDUAL, NOT TO THE PLAINTIFF AND DEFENDANT AS A MARRIED COUPLE; AS SUCH, IT WAS NOT MARITAL PROPERTY, AND DEFENDANT NEVER HAD ANY RIGHT TO THE FUNDS AND WOULD NOT HAVE HAD A RIGHT TO THE FUNDS EVEN HAD THE GIFT BEEN GIVEN DURING THE MARRIAGE, WHICH IT WAS NOT. 

SECOND, THE GIFT WAS NOT GIVEN TO THE PLAINTIFF UNTIL MORE THAN ONE YEAR FOLLOWING THE CLOSE OF THIS FAMILY COURT DIVORCE CASE FILE, AND THEREFORE THE MOTION WAS UNTIMELY BROUGHT. 

THIRD, THE MOTION WAS NOT PROPERLY SERVED UPON PLAINTIFF AND HER COUNSEL, AND THE BAILIFF IS INSTRUCTED TO REFER THAT MATTER TO THE OFFICE OF ATTORNEY PROFESSIONAL RESPONSIBILITY AT THE EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY. THE COURT FURTHER INSTRUCTS THAT PICKING UP THE PHONE RIGHT NOW WOULD NOT BE TOO EARLY, MISTER BAILIFF.

FOURTH, THE COURT FINDS THAT THERE ARE OTHER COMPELLING REASONS TOO NUMEROUS TO GO INTO ON THE RECORD AT THIS TIME FOR DENYING THE DEFENDANT’S MOTION, AND INCORPORATES INTO THE RECORD AND THIS DECISION THE EXCELLENT BRIEF FILED IN OPPOSITION TO THE INSTANT MOTION BY PLAINTIFF’S COUNSEL, AND IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED IN THE ADDITIONAL REASONS FOR THIS DENIAL, REFERS THEM TO SAME.

THE DEFENDANT'S MOTION IS DENIED.

FURTHER, THE COURT ORDERS THE DEFENDANT TO REIMBURSE PLAINTIFF HER REASONABLE ATTORNEYS' FEES AND COSTS, IN AN AMOUNT TO BE DETERMINED BY PLAINTIFFS' COUNSEL, WITHIN THIRTY DAYS OF PLAINTIFFS' COUNSEL'S INVOICE FOR SAME.

FURTHER, THE COURT ORDERS THE DEFENDANT'S COUNSEL TO REIMBURSE THIS COURT FOR THE COSTS OF THIS MORNING'S HEARING, IN AN AMOUNT TO BE DETERMINED BY THE COURT CLERK WITHIN THIRTY DAYS, AND PAID WITHIN THIRTY DAYS OF RECEIPT OF THE CLERK'S INVOICE FOR SAME.

ON A PERSONAL NOTE, AS I HAVE SAID, I AM SHOCKED BY THE BEHAVIOR OF THE DEFENDANT, WHO IS A COUNTY SHERIFF AND SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO RELY ON FRAUDULENTLY OBTAINED MATERIALS, AND TO VIOLATE A RESTRAINING ORDER. INDEED, A RESTRAINING ORDER SHOULD NEVER BE NEEDED AGAINST A LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICIAL, BUT HERE IT CLEARLY WAS NEEDED, AND THAT IS OUTRAGEOUS. IT IS SIMILARLY OUTRAGEOUS THAT A SINGLE ATTORNEY - MUCH LESS ALL OF THE ATTORNEYS IN SEVERAL LAW FIRMS, IN SEVERAL STATES - SHOULD BE INVOLVED IN SUCH WIDESPREAD FRAUD AND VIOLATION OF STATE AND FEDERAL LAW. I WILL BE PERSONALLY CALLING THE OFFICE OF ATTORNEY PROFESSIONAL RESPONSIBILITY TO FILE MY OWN COMPLAINT AGAINST THE ATTORNEYS IN THIS FIRM, AND I ENCOURAGE PLAINTIFF AND HER COUNSEL TO DO THE SAME.

THIS CASE IS HEREBY DISMISSED AND RE-CLOSED, AND WILL NOT BE SUBJECT TO FURTHER MOTIONS TO REOPEN.

THIS COURT IS ADJOURNED FOR LUNCH UNTIL APPROXIMATELY 1:00 THIS AFTERNOON, WHEN THE NEXT CASE WILL BE CALLED. MISTER BAILIFF.

 **BAILIFF:** ALL RISE. OYEZ, OYEZ, OYEZ, DISTRICT COURT FOR THE COUNTY OF WASHINGTON - STILLWATER DIVISION, STATE OF MINNESOTA, HONORABLE ROBERT E. GREEN, DISTRICT COURT JUDGE, PRESIDING, IS NOW ADJOURNED UNTIL APPROXIMATELY 1:00 THIS AFTERNOON.

**[End of rough transcript.]**

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As expected. ;) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the format change-up!
> 
> Please comment! :D


	209. Sam's First Therapy Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam meets with Mia for their first session.

“Come in, Sam. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah. You, too, Mia. Been a while.” Sam wiped his damp palms nervously on his pants as he slid past Mia into her office.

“Have a seat, Sam, wherever you’re comfortable. Would you like a bottle of water? I’m getting one for me, so it’s no trouble.”

“Ah, sure. Yeah. Thanks.” Sam raised his hand in an abortive half-wave, then set it back in his lap. He looked around the office, a little nervously.

Mia came in and handed a bottle of water to him, then twisted her own bottle open as she sat on the couch kitty-corner to where Sam was seated. She took a swig, recapped the bottle, and set it on the table between them.

“So, Sam. I want to start by telling you that I do know some of your history; obviously, you’re a legend in the supernatural circles in which we both travel; we’ve talked once before; I’ve read Chuck Shurley’s books; etc. And I understand that some of what you have to tell me would sound ridiculous or nonsensical to an outsider, or get you on heavy drugs or ECT treatment at a locked facility, if you said it to someone else. But I know that you are not delusional, you’ve simply had experiences that were outside the norm, and I will not judge. This is a safe space, Sam. 

“So, Sam. How have you been? What brings you in to see me?” She smiled softly.

“Well. I don’t sleep well. Or often. Or much. I have horrible dreams. Those have lessened a bit lately, for a couple of reasons, but I still have the dreams now and then, and they’re bad. I know my brother’s been here, and I know he’s been feeling really good about the work he’s been doing with you, Mia, but I don’t know how much, if anything, he’s told you about my situation, and….”

“Sam, even if Dean and I talked about you all session, every session - and I assure you, we don’t - I couldn’t use that information to treat you, nor could I even mention it to you. Yes, your brother comes here, and I can tell you that only because he already has - and I understand that it was the result of an ultimatum that you handed to him. But I can’t tell you what he and I talk about, unless it’s something he’s told you. I would prefer, in fact, that we treat the situation as if Dean were not also one of my clients, as if I knew nothing from him. I would prefer to deal with you on the basis of just what you tell me, yourself. However, that’s with the caveat that if you leave out something I know from another source, that I consider important, I’ll ask about it, rather than let it go. All right?”

Sam nodded. “That’s fair. Yeah. Totally.”

“So. You say you have bad dreams, and as a result, you don’t sleep enough. How long have you been having these kinds of dreams, Sam?”

Sam considered. “Well… actually, there are really three kinds of dreams. One is your average everyday kind of nightmare, the kind anyone could get. Those fade from memory quickly, and I generally wake up out of them and go right back to sleep without difficulty. The second kind is a memory nightmare. It’s not happening now, but it did happen, in that past, and in my dream, I re-live it. Those tend not to wake me right away - they grab hold of me and want to keep me, not release me - and once I do manage to wake, I don’t even want to try to sleep again right away.”

“And the third kind of dream, Sam?” Mia asked.

“The third kind are visions,” he told her. “They’re not always bad, but usually they are. And they come true, unless I act quickly to stop them. Usually, they come true by the fourth time I have the same one.”

“Really. Interesting. How often would you say you get the vision kind of dream, Sam?”

“Maybe once or twice a year. Maybe a little less often now than I used to, when I was in college.”

“And when did the vision type of dreams start to occur?”

“When I was a senior in college, so, I was 21, 22. Around then.”

“Do you remember the first one?”

“Yeah. I ignored it. I thought it was just a really bad dream, y’know? I didn’t know better, then.”

“So, you ignored it, and what happened, Sam?”

“Jess - my girlfriend at the time - died.”

“Do you think Jess’ death was your fault, Sam?”

“Yes. And no. I didn’t cause it, but I ignored the dream. I could’ve warned her, saved her, but I thought it was  _ just _ a dream, so I did nothing.”

“Who  _ actually  _ caused Jess’ death, Sam?”

“Well, a demon. It’s one of two, depending on whether you think the one giving the orders is the one who matters, or the one who set the fire and stabbed Jess is the one who matters.”

“Do you know their names?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one gave the orders?”

“Azazel. He also killed my mother.”

“And which one stabbed Jess and set the fire?”

“Well, it wasn’t actually the demon’s name, but - Brady. Brady was a friend of mine, but he was killed, and replaced by a demon wearing him, during our sophomore year - I actually didn’t find that out until much later, but yeah. He actually introduced me to Jess, first.”

“So, it was the demons’ fault, right?”

“Yeah. But still.”

“But still you feel guilty over something for which you know you weren’t responsible?”

Sam chuckled and glanced down. “Yeah.”

“Do you do that often? Take responsibility for others’ actions?” Mia asked.

Sam continued to look down, and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Let’s get back to your dreams. Counting all three types of dream, how often would you say you dream, Sam? Every night? More than once every night? Less? More?”

“Probably some kind of dream at least once per night; sometimes more,” Sam admitted.

“How often would you say you have more than one dream in the same night?”

“Maybe two, three times a week.”

“When you have what you referred to as the ‘everyday’ type of dream, are those consistently bad dreams? Or are they good dreams sometimes, mixed in? Or are they consistently good dreams?”

Sam shook his head. “I rarely have what I would consider a good dream. Almost all the dreams I have are bad.”

“Hmm. Okay, before we go further down the dreams rabbit hole, Sam, is your dream-related insomnia the only reason you sought help? Or are there other issues that we’ll need to cover as well?”

Sam straightened up and nodded. “Um, yeah. There are some others.”

“Such as?”

“Well, the guy I’m dating has a habit of faking his death and disappearing for years at a time. He also takes unnecessary risks and puts himself in harm’s way on a semi-regular basis. So, now, I have a little trouble trusting that he won’t do it again, even though he’s promised not to. I don’t think it’s interfering in the relationship, but I know it’s there.”

“So, trust issues? Would you say generally you have difficulty trusting people, or is it just in this one instance?”

“No, the opposite - I usually trust too much, too fast. Sometimes long beyond when I should stop, and in the face of warnings not to.” Sam looked a little sheepish.

“Give me a for instance, Sam.” Mia smiled softly in encouragement.

“Well, Ruby. I should never have trusted her.”

“Tell me about Ruby, Sam.”

“Well, she was a demon. She pretended to be on ‘our side’ and to have my best interests at heart, but it was all a lie. She was really working for Lilith, the first demon ever created by Lucifer, in trying to break Lucifer free of his Cage. And she manipulated me into doing exactly that.”

Mia nodded. “Okay. Anything else? Any other reasons to want therapy, Sam?”

“Well, yeah. Mia, you’ve read the books, and while they’re not perfectly accurate, by any means, you know a lot of what’s gone on. I have a lot of guilt. I’ve done some truly fucked-up things, Mia. Azazel wanted me to lead his demon army, but more than that, if I couldn’t free Lucifer and be his vessel, Azazel wanted me to be the new King of Hell. Even now, there’s a claim on Hell in my name, and there are… entities that would still like me to be on the throne, there. I have no interest in ruling Hell, but given the things I’ve done over the course of my life, I’ll probably go there when I die - I have no illusions that I’m a good person going to Heaven - and if I’m going down, wouldn’t it be better to rule than to suffer in the Pit? So, there’s that.”

“Hmm. Sam, I don’t have the theological qualifications necessary to argue whether or not you qualify to go to Heaven, but it seems to me that having sacrificed yourself to save the world - which I notice you conveniently left out, there - you’d have a good argument for going up, rather than down. You trapped Lucifer in your body and jumped into the Cage, with no expectation of rescue, did you not?”

Sam blushed. “Well, yeah. But that’s not because I’m a good person, Mia. It just needed to be done.”

“And you think just anyone could have done it, because it needed to be done? Like a load of laundry, or mopping the floor? No. Sam, you did something extraordinary, and you know it.”

“I disagree. I think anyone who had the means and opportunity would have done the same, or tried to.”

Mia leaned forward and took Sam’s hands in hers. “No, Sam. Many many people would have been too afraid to try. Most people. What you did took true strength and courage. You’re being dishonest with yourself to try to claim otherwise, Sam.”

Sam shrugged it off, but the tips of his ears got darker red.

“Anything else, Sam?”

Sam considered a moment. “Well… kind of. Yeah.”

“What’s that?” Mia waited.

“It has been suggested in the past that Dean and I are co-dependent on each other to an unhealthy degree. And I can see it. I love my brother, I do, but I also harbor a lot of resentment and other feelings that aren’t so great. I’ve always felt like I didn’t measure up, that I didn’t have his approval, and I’ve gone back and forth between needing it desperately and wondering why I ever wanted it. I love Dean, but my relationship with him is admittedly fucked up. And I think it’s maybe time to untangle it a bit, work through that, and try to… I don’t know, stand alone and be healthy.”

Mia nodded. “Your relationship with Dean is complicated. And clearly important to both of you.”

“Yes. I don’t want to hurt Dean, but there are times when I just need to get away from him for a while. But we seem to always end up cycling back around to being together. I guess I’ve been hoping that now that he has Cas, he won’t need me as much, and I have Gabe, so maybe I won’t need Dean as much.”

“But untangling that, as you say, is difficult,” Mia acknowledged. “For right now, I understand that you two are both living and working in the same building, with your respective significant others, correct? How’s that going?”

“Well, it’s okay. It works all right. It’s not like I want Dean and Cas to leave, and my work is there, so I’m certainly not going anywhere. I think once Dean has the Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls open, he’ll be up there more, and maybe it’ll all just kind of shake out. I just don’t want to do or say the wrong thing and end up hurting him unnecessarily, especially if he’s going to be gone naturally anyway. Does that make sense?”

Mia nodded again. “Yes. You love your brother, but you’ve been in each others’ pockets your whole life. He raised you, so he’s more than your brother, but you’re an adult and don’t need a parent, now. It’s natural that you’d want some independence, and yet not want to give up the person on whom you’ve always depended.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. So, the issues we’ve identified so far to work on in therapy, then, are these: first, insomnia related to three types of essentially negative dream experiences; second, your guilty conscience, which takes on responsibility for others’ actions, as well as your own, to an unhealthy degree; third, your issues with being able to trust others in a healthy way, such that you apparently fail to give appropriate levels of trust to your significant other, and yet, seem to trust others far too much, too soon; fourth, I think you have a little bit of a martyr complex, complicated by the fact that you actually have been the world’s savior, yet don’t like to admit it; and fifth, your relationship with your brother, which has a host of sub-issues related to it. Does that about sum it up, Sam?” Mia inquired.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s basically it.”

“I find it interesting that you haven’t even mentioned your father, Sam.”

“What about him?” Sam’s voice was level.

“Sam, it’s not exactly a secret that your father neglected you and Dean to the point of abuse. As already mentioned, Dean had to raise you, and he’s only four years older. I know that Dean has discussed with you, because he’s told me he has, that his relationship with John is one of the foundational problems that he and I have been working through in his therapy. Moving you around constantly, living in motels, changing schools, losing people over and over and over due to always being on the move - these have all led to Dean’s abandonment and anger issues. Yet you haven’t even brought John up once. That’s interesting.”

“Dean had it a lot harder than I did. Dad made Dean take on way too much, way too young, and Dean had to be my parent as well as my brother. But Dean also sheltered me as much as he could. I know that there were lean times, I’m not stupid, okay? But Dean always shouldered the responsibility; if one of us had to go hungry, it was going to be him, and he was always going to be sure I got fed. Now, at the time, I didn’t know just how bad it was, because Dean wouldn’t let me see it, y’know? But as I got older, I figured it out. But I’m not angry at John. I have the luxury of not having had to worry about John, because I had Dean. Dean didn’t have anyone, and I totally get why he’d be angry at Dad. For me, though, John is just… not important. Yeah, we moved around a lot, but I was kind of a loner anyway. I had my books, and I had Dean. Dean was my constant, and I could rely on him. I knew Dean would never abandon me. So I don’t have the same fears that Dean has. Dean spared me all of that. And I know exactly what that cost him, believe me, though I don’t know that he knows that. He wouldn’t want to know that, I don’t think.”

“It’s still interesting. You say that you had Dean, but Dean didn’t have anyone. Didn’t Dean have you?”

“Well, sure, kind of; but I was so much younger than Dean. When Dean was 10, I was 6. He was doing the cooking, the laundry, the shopping. He was already being trained by Dad to be a hunter. Dad didn’t start training me until I was a lot older than Dean had been when Dad started training him. Plus, I ran away a lot. I wasn’t always a happy kid, believe me. And when I did run away, it was Dean that got punished for not keeping an eye on me. So no, he couldn’t really rely on me. I was a kid, and I was allowed to just be a kid. Dean never was.”

“Hmm. It’s also interesting to me that you were aware that Dean went without. He seems to think you weren’t aware.”

“Well, I wasn’t  _ always  _ aware. I mean, when I was a little kid, he managed to hide most of it pretty well. It was later, looking back, that I realized that he had to have been suffering. I think I was probably twelve, maybe thirteen, when I started to realize the crap that Dean had to put up with that I didn’t. But I never told Dean that I’d figured it out, because I could tell that he didn’t want me to know. I let him think that he’d succeeded in hiding it from me as well as he thought he had.”

Mia nodded. “Okay. So you don’t think you need to discuss John, then?”

“No, I really don’t think I do. If you think there’s something there that I’m missing, I’m happy to consider it, Mia, but it’s just a basic truth to me - John was not my father, except in terms of being the sperm donor. In every way that mattered. Dean was my parent. Dean, and later, Bobby Singer, but when I was a kid, when I thought of the person who was in charge of taking care of me? That was Dean. It was never John. And I’m honestly fine with that.”

Mia pursed her lips, but then nodded. “All right. I can see that. Okay, then, going forward, we have the five issues that I laid out earlier to work on. And I have one final concern that I wanted to ask you about, Sam. Alcohol. Dean has acknowledged that he is an alcoholic. He tells me that John was one, as well. Do you also have issues with alcohol?”

“I drink now and then. A beer or two, or a glass of whisky. I like the taste. But I don’t believe I have a problem with it, no. After Dean’s last binge, when I laid down the law and told him he had to get help, I cleared the Bunker of alcohol, so we don’t have any on hand, and if I want a beer, I’d have to go out to get one. I haven’t bothered, and I don’t miss it.”

“Fair enough.”

“But I am a recovering addict. I was addicted to the demon blood. Ruby got me hooked on it. I’ve been clean for a long time, but If I’m honest… yeah. I still remember exactly how it felt to have that simmering inside of me. Boosting my confidence, and my ego. I both loved and despised it at the same time. I don’t want it, and I’d refuse it if offered, but… yeah. I’ll always be an addict.”

Mia leaned forward and took Sam’s hand again. “It takes true strength to be able to admit that, Sam. And to stay clean. How long?”

“Since I last had any? When I said ‘yes’ to Lucifer in Detroit. That was in May 2010, so it’s been more than 9 years.”

“Any reason for current concern that you’ll give in to temptation?” Mia’s eyes twinkled as she asked.

Sam laughed. “No. None.”

“Okay. No other drugs, I assume?”

“Correct.”

Mia nodded. “Okay, then. We’ve got five pretty substantial issues to work on, going forward. And I’m not going to whitewash it, Sam, they’re complicated issues, and it won’t be easy. There likely will not be big ‘aha!’ moments, as you’re already fairly self-aware. This is going to be a slog through minutiae and details, and it likely won’t be much fun.”

“I get it, Mia. I’m in. And I’ll stay in, even if it isn’t ‘fun,’ and even if the progress is slow and not terribly obvious. Dean’s come a long way pretty fast, but there were reasons for that, number one being Cas. The fact that they turned their relationship around and finally got themselves on track was huge for Dean. I’ve got Gabe, and we’re fairly solid, but, like I said, there’s that outstanding trust issue, and I don’t think that’s going away easily. I get what you mean about there won’t be any ‘aha!” moments. That’s okay. It’s a process, a journey. I’m in it for the long haul, Mia. I want to be healthy, not just getting by.”

“Well, that’s an excellent starting place, Sam. As I said, you strike me as someone who is self-aware. That can be very helpful in therapy. When someone sees the reasons behind why they engage in negative behaviors, it makes the negative behaviors easier to stop. But you don’t seem to have many negative behaviors, Sam. You’re not drowning yourself in booze, or striking out in anger randomly. So it’s not a matter of not engaging in negative behavior so much as, if you’ll excuse the metaphor, finding a safe path through a somewhat boggy swamp, and trying to shore up that path as much as possible. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes. It really does.”

“Okay, then I’d like to propose something. With Dean, I’ve been doing weekly sessions that have run very long. I’d like to take a different approach with you, Sam. I’d like for you to take a half-hour each morning to talk with me, either on the phone or online with a conference call app, for at least a couple of weeks. Structured, short, conversations, about just one of our outlined issues per call. And then for the rest of the day, I’d like for you to do other things. Be active, get out and go running, get some work done, whatever else you need to do, but not thinking about therapy. Therapy is for therapy sessions only. And in two weeks, we’ll evaluate and see if we want to continue in that vein. Would that work for you?”

Sam considered it, then nodded slowly. “So I shouldn’t be thinking about these issues outside of when we talk about them?”

“Not actively, no. Your brain will have them on simmer on the back burner. But that’s where I want them, for now. All right?”

“Okay. So, I should just call you each morning?”

“Yes. It doesn’t matter what time you call, so long as it’s before 10:00. I don’t take early morning in-office appointments, so you won’t be interrupting another client. When you call, I’ll tell you which issue we’ll discuss, and then you and I will chat about that issue, and just that issue - nothing else - for thirty minutes, at which time we’ll stop, and each go on about our day.”

“Okay. So I wouldn’t be coming in here at all?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary for you to come all the way across town, Sam. These will be just short chats. As I said, your brain will do the heavy lifting, but over time, on simmer, without active thought. I think this approach will work better for you than journaling or weekly sessions. I don’t think you need that. I think you need to get out of your head a bit. So, again, be active, go running, or do your work, but don’t actively think about therapy unless we’re on the phone.”

Mia rose from the couch. “I think that’s enough to be getting on with, for now. I’ll speak with you tomorrow, Sam.”

Sam got up, as well. “Okay. tomorrow then. Thank you, Mia.”

Mia walked with him over to the door, and held it for him. “Have a good day, Sam.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Goodbye.” She smiled, and closed the door behind him.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. So - anyone have anything else they want Sam and Mia to cover? What do you think of Mia's proposed therapy format for Sam?
> 
> Please comment! ;D
> 
> Please Note: This chapter is now ALSO Chapter 1 of a new story, "Sam's Therapy." Rather than bog down THIS story with Sam and Mia's daily chats, those will NOT appear here, JUST in the other story! So watch for them! ;)


	210. Gabriel's Famous!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam returns from therapy to find that Shann is working so hard in the library that he doesn't want to disturb him; Sam talks to Gabe in the War Room, instead. Claire, driving while Jody sleeps, gets used to talking with Deanna, who vacillates between being an entirely normal little kid one minute, and having knowledge and understanding beyond her years the next.

Shann had been hard at work for about four hours already when Sam returned from his appointment. He barely mumbled a greeting in response to Sam’s, deeply focused on finishing his report on the “Origin Story” translation and the comparison of the two works by Félix José Gabriel de Unamuno y Jugo - the one Sam had found here in the Bunker’s library, and the one he’d found himself in the alternate universe’s version of the Bunker, where apparently an alternate version of himself had been translating it and taking notes, which he’d also brought back with him. Shann’s fingers flew over the laptop’s keyboard; he’d been tested at the temp agency and knew he could type over 135 wpm when he got going, and he thought he might well be going about that fast now. 

For his part, Sam realized that Shann wasn’t ready to come up for air quite yet, so he wandered back out of the library, not wanting to disturb him further. He decided to go looking for Gabriel, then realized it’d be a lot quicker to just pray to him and have Gabe come to him.

“Gabe, if you’ve got your ears on, I’m back from therapy, and in the War Room. I’d like to talk, if you’ve got a minute.”

Before he’d finished the last word, he heard a soft “whoosh” and knew Gabe was behind him; he turned, and smiled.

“Hey, Samshine, how’d it go?”

“It was interesting. We didn’t get through a whole lot today; it was more establishing what topics we’ll need to cover, going forward and then Mia proposed a format for how to do our sessions that’s completely different from what she’s been doing with Dean. She’s pretty creative.”

“Oh?” Gabe pulled up a chair and settled into it. “Do tell.”

Sam paced a little, still feeling full of nervous energy that had yet to dissipate, that he’d built up prior to the appointment. “She wants me to call her at some point prior to 10:00 each morning, and we’ll talk for thirty minutes about one topic of the five we’ve established. She’ll choose the topic. After thirty minutes, we’re done, and we each go about our day, and she doesn’t want me to actively think about the therapy topics when we’re not on the phone. She wants me to get out of my head, be active, go running, or work on the translations, or whatever, but just let my brain keep the therapy topics on simmer on the backburner.”

“Interesting.” Gabe considered the proposal. “I like it. You’ve always been a deep thinker, very cerebral. This makes you take a different approach to how you’ve handled these issues in the past, whereas journaling, as Dean’s been doing, would really just be in line with how you’ve always done things. She’s smart.”

Sam nodded. “I like her. She’s brisk, but non-judgmental. She cares, but she doesn’t let you get away with crap.”

“Well, that explains Dean-o’s progress.” Gabe grinned.

Sam poked his shoulder. “Jerk.”

Gabe sighed softly and rose from the chair. “I guess I’d better go change, huh?”

Sam looked at him blankly. “Huh? Change?”

“To go running. C’mon, Sam, need to get you out of your head, right? Let’s go.”

***

“Claire? I’m bored.” 

“Can’t you read your book, Deanna? I thought you liked reading.” Claire glanced back in the back seat, where Deanna was strapped into her car seat, then over at Jody, asleep in the passenger seat, then back at the road.

“I finished it.”

“Okay. When we stop, maybe we can find a bookstore and get you some more books. In the meantime, have you ever played the license plate game?”

“No. What’s that? How do you play?” Deanna asked.

“You look at the cars as they go past on the highway, or as you pass them, and you see where the license plate says the car is registered. If you call out the state first, before the other people playing the game in your car, then it’s your point. You try to get at least one car from each state, or at least as many as you can; I’ve never gotten one from either Alaska or Hawaii. The person who gets the most points by the time you’ve reached your destination wins. It doesn’t have to be for the whole trip; it could be until we stop for lunch, which will probably be in about an hour, if you were wondering. Want to try playing?”

“Okay. What state are we in currently?” Deanna wanted to know.

_Deanna_

“Still North Dakota, and there’s not much traffic, since we’re kind of in the boonies, here; so, most of the license plates might just be from here. But you never know, someone might be traveling for work or just passing through from another state, and then you can collect them.”

“Well, that car’s from North Dakota.” Deanna noted, of the car they were passing currently.

“Correct. So, you get the point for North Dakota, because you were the first person to call it. Now you have to look for license plates from other states. You might have to really keep your eyes peeled.”

“That sounds painful.”

“It’s not literal, sweetie. It’s just a saying. Please, don’t _actually_ peel your eyes.”

“Oh. Okay. I won’t.”

“Good, thank you. I think your daddy would be pretty mad at me if you did that because of something I said.” Claire grinned as she glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Deanna’s eye. Deanna giggled.

“Claire? Do you think my daddy will like me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, your daddy’s going to love you. He does already, without even having met you. When he meets you, he’s just going to love you even more.”

“But that’s _love_ . That’s kind of obligatory, for a parent to love a child. I want to know if you think he’ll _like_ me, which is different.”

“Well, kiddo, let me tell you, it may be ‘kind of obligatory,’ but believe me when I say that not every parent actually _does_ love their children as much as they should. But yes, in addition to loving you, I do think that Dean, your daddy, will also _like_ you.”

“Can I ask why you think so? What will he like about me?”

Claire smiled. She knew Deanna wasn’t fishing for compliments, she was just honestly curious, and wanted to know as much as she could about Dean. “Well, you’re smart, you’re sweet, and you giggle. You’re a charmer. You’re actually a lot like your daddy, really.”

“Yes. Mommy always said so.” 

Deanna looked out the car window at the car they were passing. “Michigan!” she called out.

“Oh, good job! That’s two for you,” Claire noted. “So, what else would you like to know about Dean?”

“Is he married?”

“Not yet. He’s engaged, to his boyfriend, Castiel, who we all pretty much just call Cas.”

“Wait. My daddy’s _gay_?” Claire thought Deanna sounded more surprised than shocked. Even though Deanna was only four years old, Claire was not terribly surprised that she understood what ‘gay’ meant. 

“No. He likes both men and women.”

“Oh. I was kind of wondering how, if he was gay, he could be my daddy, but if he likes both, that makes more sense, I guess.”

“You should know that Cas is an angel.”

“You mean he’s a really nice person?”

“No, I mean he’s literally an angel, one of the heavenly host, a seraph. In fact, he’s actually the angel in charge, at the moment, although he’s delegated in order to be on Earth with Dean.”

“Oh! Wait! Castiel! Yes, I’ve heard his name being sung by the choirs.” Deanna smiled happily.

“The choirs? What do you mean, kiddo?” Claire asked.

“I used to hear the angels, singing. They’re organized into choirs, and they sing while they do their work. It’s beautiful. But they stopped, right after my mommy died. I haven’t heard them since.”

“Oh. Um. Okay. Well, there are other angels that live in the Bunker - that’s what we call the building where your daddy and Uncle Sam live. It’s a pretty big place.”

“Which angels live there, Claire?” Deanna wanted to know.

“Um. Well, in addition to Cas, there’s Gabriel, Balthazar, and Hannah. And sometimes Violet, but she’s technically a reaper. I think there might be a couple of other reapers who live there, too. They’re there to protect your daddy and Uncle Sam.”

“Gabriel? The Archangel?” Deanna’s eyes were wide with excitement.

“You’ve heard of him, I guess?”

“I’ve read the Bible, Claire. A few times. When Mommy got sick, we didn’t have a lot of money for books, but there’s almost always a copy of the Bible lying around in hospitals. Plus, Aunt Lilah didn’t like it when I read, but she tolerated my reading the Bible.” Deanna shrugged. 

“But Gabriel’s _famous_ , Claire! He’s the _Messenger of God_ , explaining visions to prophets. In the Book of Daniel, Chapter 9, verses 21-23, it says, ‘While I was speaking in prayer, Gabriel, whom I had seen in the vision at the first, came to me in swift flight at the time of the evening sacrifice. He made me understand, speaking with me and saying, “O Daniel, I have now come out to give you insight and understanding. At the beginning of your pleas for mercy a word went out, and I have come to tell it to you, for you are greatly loved. Therefore consider the word and understand the vision.”’ Gabriel is also God’s messenger to both the priest Zechariah, regarding the birth of his son, who was John the Baptist, and to the Virgin Mary, regarding her selection as the mother of Jesus, the son of God; those stories are both in the Gospel according to Luke.”

“Well, Gabe will probably be tickled that you know who he is.”

“It’s really him?”

Claire nodded. “It really is.”

“Wow. So _cool_!”

Claire couldn’t help but laugh. Deanna joined in, giggling, happy to have made Claire happy. Then Deanna looked out the window and noticed another license plate. “Hey, Ohio!”

“Good job, kiddo, that’s three for you!” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabe is so good for Sam. Gabe hates running, but he won't let Sam be on his own when he needs to get out of his head. :)
> 
> Deanna's a slightly odd child. A lot of kids who have parents die after long illnesses like cancer tend to grow up very quickly, and that's part of it; the other part, of course, is that Deanna's a cambion. The demonic side of her doesn't seem to have influenced her to evil; at least, not yet. Let's hope the angels that she'll be hanging out with - non "dicks", all - can keep her on the side of good. ;)
> 
> More art!
> 
> So - what do you think? Please comment! Comments are proof of life, guys! ;D


	211. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann talks with Castiel, Dean - and Lucifer - before making up his mind.

Shann finished typing the last sentence of his report. He hit Ctrl-Home to return to the beginning, and ran back through it, looking for typos and places where his wording might have been less than clear, fixing any errors he found as he went. And then, he was done. He blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slumped down in his chair, unsure as to whether he should feel relieved, or nervous.

Well, the work was done, and that was good. Whatever else happened, Sam would have all of his notes, his report, his translation texts for both books, and, of course, the books themselves. 

He sat up suddenly, feeling cold sweat on the back of his neck. “Whatever else happened”? Wait, what was he  _ expecting  _ to happen? If he was that uncertain of whether or not he could trust Lucifer, that he felt he needed to put exigency plans into place in case Lucifer reneged on letting him remain in control, then maybe he ought not to say ‘yes,’ after all. 

Shann took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly. 

_ I’m being ridiculous. I don’t have to say ‘yes,’ nothing is forcing my hand, here.  _

He rested his elbows on the edge of the table, one to each side of his laptop, and rubbed his face gently with both hands, then scrubbed his hands back through his hair, then stretched. 

_ I just need to move around, I’ve been sitting still here for hours _ . 

He wondered just what time it was. His stomach growled a bit, and he realized that whatever time it might be, it was time to go to the kitchen and scrounge around for some lunch. 

Shann saved his work - again, just in case - then picked up his long-empty coffee mug, and headed for the kitchen. 

Cas entered the War Room, from the hall leading to the bedrooms, just as Shann entered it from the library.

“Hello, Shann.”

“Um, hey, Cas.” Shann walked a bit more quickly, and went straight for the coffeemaker. Cas followed him into the kitchen. “Um, did you need something?”

“Just a cup of coffee.” Castiel smiled softly, then tilted his head slightly. “Are you all right, Shann? You seem… nervous, or distracted.”

“Fine. ‘m fine. I’ll, um, just get out of your way, here.” Shann ducked over toward the refrigerator, and got out the flavored creamer to doctor his coffee.

“Oh, leave that out for me, would you? Thanks.” Cas poured his own mug of coffee, and started a fresh pot.

“Um, sure.” Shann set the creamer on the counter, and looked for something to munch on. He decided on a sandwich, and started pulling out the makings.

Dean came into the kitchen. “Hey, Shann. How’s it going?”

Shann jumped, startled, and dropped the - fortunately plastic - bottle of mustard. He bent to pick it up, and took another deep breath. “I’m good, Dean. How… how are you?”

Dean shot him an odd look, but just said, “I’m all right.” Then Dean turned to Cas and smiled. “Hey, Angel.”

“Hello, my heart.” Cas smiled back at Dean, and Shann watched, as his eyes lit up.

‘You guys are really happy together. It’s.. it’s nice to see.” He put the mustard on the counter, and turned to dig in the silverware drawer for a knife.

“Shann.” Cas turned toward him. “Are you sure you’re all right? Is this about Lucifer?”

“Kinda, yeah. Everyone keeps saying there’s no reason to be afraid of saying ‘yes’ to him any more, or even concerned, but I guess in the back of my head somewhere I just keep thinking about all the ‘what ifs’, y’know? I know you’d be happier, Dean, with Lucifer out of Castiel, but...”

Dean looked at Shann, concerned. “Hey, no one’s forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do, you got me, man? Say yes, say no, it makes no difference to us. It’s between you and Lucifer.”

“Yes, but what happens between you and Cas is, or should be, just between the two of you, and it can’t be, so long as Lucifer’s in Castiel. I get it, man, I wouldn’t want a threesome, either.” Shann smiled wryly. “But I’m not in a relationship right now. Having Lucifer in me doesn’t mean the same thing to me as having him in Cas does to you two.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to take on the responsibility of housing an Archangel, Shann.” Cas smiled sympathetically. “If you don’t want to say ‘yes,’ then don’t.” He paused for a moment. “Lucy says the same, Shann. If you’re not comfortable with the idea, then he’ll retract the offer.”

“No! No.” Shann glanced down at the floor, then back up at Dean and Cas. “I actually want to do this. I could use the research help, and it’d be way more convenient to have Lucifer with me all the time. It’s just nerves.”

“For good reason, Shann,” Dean told him. “Cas is an angel, and Lucifer no longer has the Mark, and it still makes me nervous to have Cas carrying him around. I know what Lucifer’s capable of, I saw what being his vessel did to Sam, to Nick, to Cas before. But….”

“But…?” Shann quirked a brow.

“But I’ve also seen how he’s been with Cas this time. It’s different. Isn’t it, Cas?” Dean asked his fiance.

Castiel nodded. “It is. He’s still just as snarky as ever, but he’s also calmer, and a little sad. He has so much regret for all the things he’s done. He wants to fix things, make things right, help. I feel sorry for him. He’s been tortured for a long time, for no real good reason. The Mark and the Cage, they messed him up. But he’s not evil, Shann. He has no ill will. His intentions are good. He can’t lie to me, we’re mind-to-mind.”

Shann nodded. “I’d like to talk to him for a moment, if I could. Would you be willing to let him drive your vessel, just for a little bit, Cas?”

“Cas, no….” Dean bit out.

Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm, comfortingly. “It’s all right, Dean. It will just be for a moment.”

Then Cas’ face changed, somehow took on the air of someone even older, as Lucifer stepped forward and took control.

“It’s all right, Dean. I will not harm Castiel,” Lucifer told Dean.

Lucifer turned to Shann. “Shann. You have concerns. How can I help resolve them?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to trust you. So I don’t know how to believe anything you say.”

Lucifer nodded. “Fair. You don’t know me. This is the first time we’ve spoken, and for all you know, I could be making an offer to manipulate you, get you to say ‘yes’ to me, and then, once I’ve gotten inside you, take control and, as Dean here would say, ‘wear you to the prom’. I don’t know how to assuage that fear, Shann, except to say that I have no such intent. The work you’re doing interests me. I’d like to help with it. I think it explains the family history of the creator of the angels, my Father, and it tells some stories I’ve not heard before. I like stories. I think you and I have a lot of common interests, and we’d work well together. But if I frighten you, if you’re too nervous about my intentions to relax and go forward, I understand, Shann. I take no offense from it. You’ve probably heard all of the stories about me, all bad, all the time, all your life, right? I get it. I understand, completely. All I can say is that you’ve only ever heard the one side of those stories, Shann. They’re not entirely true, they’re not entirely false; but I promise you that I’m not the bad guy I’ve been made out to be - I never was - and now that the Mark is gone, I’m no longer corrupt.”

Shann nodded. “But, hate to say it, you could just be saying that. I have no way of assessing whether or not you’re being honest when you do. You sound sincere, and Cas clearly believes you. But how do  _ I _ know? Cas is a Seraph, with powers of his own. I’m just this guy who can translate modern French and Spanish to English and knows how to file. If you wanted to take over, you could, and I couldn’t stop you.”

Lucifer smirked a little. “That’s true. And I guess the test of my honesty is that I’m not denying it or trying to make you feel better about it. All I’m saying is that I promise that I won’t. I won’t take over, I won’t push you into the background and will stay there myself, and if and when you decide it’s time for me to leave, out I go.” He raised his hands in the surrender gesture. “You’re a smart guy, Shann. I will not bullshit you. This is who I am. And my word is my bond. Now, out of concern for Dean, who looks like he’s going to have an apoplexy, I’m going to retreat and let Cas come back to the fore. I hope this little chat helped you make up your mind, one way or the other. And I won’t blame you if you say no. It’s really fine, Shann. I just want to help.”

And with that, Castiel’s face changed, again, somehow subtly, yet obviously, becoming Castiel again. He swayed a bit on his feet. “He means it, Shann.” Cas sank into the chair that Dean pulled out from the kitchen table for him.

Dean looked at Shann. “Look, man, I really hope you got what you needed from that little chat, because I’m not letting Cas do that again.”

“Yeah, Dean, I get it - but that’s my point, see? If it exhausts Cas to carry Lucifer around, as it obviously does, what chance do I have?”

Cas looked up at that. “You misunderstand, Shann. I’m not tired because I’m carrying Lucifer around. It takes a lot of effort to force him to come forward when he doesn’t want to. He was very reluctant to have that chat, because he doesn’t want to unduly influence you either way. He wants it to be purely your decision.”

Shann sat down at the table, and ran a hand through his hair. “What would you do, Dean?”

“I’d say no, but it’s not on me, man. Lucifer’s never wanted me, I was intended to be Michael’s vessel.” Dean’s eyes skittered away.

“You were Michael’s vessel, weren’t you?”

Dean nodded, reluctantly. “We had a deal. He broke it.”

Cas made a small noise. 

“He deserves to know, Cas! Look, Shann, Michael wasn’t like Lucifer, okay? Even at his worse, Lucifer was never a liar. He preferred to tell the stark truth. Michael… Michael did whatever Michael wanted, whenever, to whomever. He had no compunction at all. Between the two of them, Michael was actually the worst.”

“So you’re saying I should believe Lucifer?”

“I’m saying you  _ can _ believe Lucifer. I don’t particularly like the guy, but he  _ is _ honest.” Dean rested his hands on Castiel’s shoulders for a moment. “Cas, I’m headed out to get some things set up for Deanna’s room. Are you all right, if I go now?”

Cas nodded. “I’m fine, my heart. Thank you.”

Dean left the room.

“So, if I said yes, how would it work?” Shann asked.

“There would be a bright white light, you would probably need to close your eyes. Lucifer would come out of me, and pass into you. And then he’d be there, in your mind. If you looked around inside your head, you’d see him; if you listened for him, you’d hear him. He would know what you know, and you would know what he knows.”

“Would it hurt?”

“No, not at all.” Cas smiled softly.

Shann nodded. “All right. I’m ready. Lucifer? Yes.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! He said yes! Eep! We'll see if that turns out to be a good decision, or a mistake! 
> 
> No art, sorry, this ran a little long as it was.
> 
> Please comment!! :D


	212. Devils and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shann says yes and Lucifer moves in. Claire, Jody, and Deanna continue the road trip down to Lebanon. They stop for gas and a bathroom break. Jody calls Dean. Deanna and Claire run into two demons in the bathroom.

Shann nodded. “All right. I’m ready. Lucifer? Yes.”

Immediately, as promised, there was a brilliant white light, almost blindingly bright, that arose from Castiel’s body. Shann did, in fact, have to close his eyes; averting them wasn’t enough. There was an odd sensation, like a tub of water had been poured onto him, but then had sunk into his skin, rather than bouncing off. The light shone a few seconds more, then died, and everything was the same as before. And everything was completely different.

Shann coughed, and staggered backward a bit, falling back against the kitchen island, raising a hand behind himself to grab on and steady himself, preventing a fall to the floor. He grunted.

“Shann? Are you all right?” Cas asked.

He swallowed hard, but nodded. “Just… just kind of knocked the breath out of me. It didn’t hurt, but I feel… heavier. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Cas nodded. “Give it a minute, you’ll get used to that.”

Shann turned and leaned against the island, bending over it, trying to catch his breath. “Lucifer? Everything all right in there?”

_ “I am well, thank you. Your physical reaction to my presence will only last a few moments; then you’ll adjust and it’ll be like I’m not even here. I have found a quiet corner in your mind, where I intend to settle in a bit. Let me know when you are ready to have me help with your work.” _

“Okay.” Shann took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. The blackness around the edges of his eyes receded as he got more oxygen from his lungs to his brain, and he started to feel better. He stood up straight, smiled at Cas, and came back over to sit at the kitchen table. “Okay, that was a little odd, but it’s passing. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Cas rose from his seat and gathered both mugs, went over to the coffeemaker, filled both mugs, and brought them back to the table, then he got the creamer and brought that over as well. “Here. You need a little pick-me-up. Get the blood moving a little faster.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Well, so far, so good. He just settled in to, as he put it, ‘a quiet corner’ in my mind. Wants me to let him know when I’m ready for him to help with the work.”

Cas nodded. “He was quiet most of the time when he was in me, as well. You had started to make a sandwich, I think. You might want those calories, now.”

“Yeah. I think I’ll do that.” Shann rose, and found that he had easily three times as much energy now as he’d had earlier in the day. He didn’t think that was just due to the caffeine, either. “Did Lucifer lend you energy, Cas?”

“Oh, yes. I had much more energy, much more power with him, than without.” Cas sipped his coffee.

Shann resumed making his sandwich, finished it, put the makings away, and brought the plate over to the table. He wolfed it down, ravenously.

“Shann, you might find that you don’t feel a need to eat, or sleep, that you have enough energy just from what bleeds off of Lucifer. Eat and sleep anyway. You want to stay healthy, in control. You don’t want to rely solely on Lucifer’s powers to keep up your strength, because you’d become dependent on them, over time. When you’re ready for him to leave, if you haven’t had solid food in months, it’ll be a problem. Shann? Are you listening?” Castiel nudged Shann’s arm gently.

“Yes, I hear you. Eat, sleep, be normal. Got it. Honestly, don’t think it’ll be a problem. I mean, I have all this energy, yet at the same time, I’m starving.”

“Your metabolism is changing to meet Lucifer’s. Don’t eat more than you normally would, either. Keep things the same as before, as much as possible.”

Shann nodded. “Right. Are there any more of Gabe’s muffins around?”

***

Claire and Jody had switched off roles after lunch, so that now Jody was driving, and Claire was sound asleep. They had taken Deanna to get some food, then to a store for some books and toys to keep Deanna occupied. She had picked out several books that Jody estimated were at about a fifth grade reading level. Jody had asked Deanna to read a couple of passages from one of the books to her, and she not only got all of the words correct, her reading voice was pleasant to listen to, and it was clear that the child understood what she was reading. Jody had looked at Claire, and shrugged, and Claire had taken the stack of books over to the register to pay. Now, Deanna was back in her child seat in the back seat of the car, and she was already midway through the first book, which Jody had originally thought would have taken her a couple of days.

They had crossed over into South Dakota just before they had stopped to eat. At first glance, Herreid hadn’t looked like it had much to offer, but Claire had looked on her phone and found the The Herried Super Stop - which carried a little bit of everything, including books - on Google Maps, and there had been a decent drive-through restaurant on the main drag through town, which doubled as US-83. They were still on US-83, now, but would switch to I-90 at Vivian, South Dakota, then to US-183 a short time after, at Presno, SD. US-183 would take them all the way south to Upland, Kansas, where they’d switch to Hwy. 4 for a hot minute, then they’d switch a final time to US-281, which would take them directly into Lebanon. It was a shorter route than going through Sioux Falls, but it wasn’t the way they’d usually take, so it felt like it was taking longer.

Jody noticed she was down to about 1/8th of a tank of gas, and started looking for a gas station to pull over. She finally saw a sign for one as she neared Selby, and she crossed her fingers that they’d make it, as they were now on fumes. The car actually died without her turning the key, just as she pulled up to the pump at Shorty’s One-Stop, a gas station and convenience store. She huffed out a breath and turned off the ignition. 

“Anyone need anything? Bathroom? Snack?” Jody shook Claire awake.

“I need to use the bathroom, please.” Deanna said, politely. 

“I can take her, Jodes. And if you want me to drive for awhile, I can.”

“Nah. I’ll get us both something to sip on though. Mountain Dew?” Jody offered.

“You know it.”

Claire got Deanna out of the car seat and shepherded her off toward the bathroom, while Jody pumped the fuel, then went inside. She got a few snack-type items, since there didn’t seem to be much in the way of places to stop along this particular route, and they might get hungry later. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Dean.

“Hey, Jodes. How’s the drive?”

“Boring. I slept most of the morning, while Claire drove. We switched at lunch. Listen, I wanted to give you a heads-up. Deanna’s only four, but she’s reading on at least a fifth grade level. She’s got the vocabulary, she understands what she reads, and she reads fast. We stopped about an hour and a half ago, bought her some more books because she’d finished the three she’d brought from her aunt’s house. She’s more’n halfway through the first one already. I hope Lebanon’s got a decent library where you can stock her up regularly, or you’re going to be spending a lot on books, my friend.”

“Good to know. I suppose she won’t like things like Sponge Bob, then, huh? I was trying to figure out how to decorate her room.”

“I think you might want to wait on that, Dean. This young miss seems to have some pretty strong ideas about what she does and doesn’t like. We’re in Selby, South Dakota, at the moment. If we just drive straight through, we’re about 8 hours away from you, but I think we should probably stop early, let Deanna rest.”

“Yeah, absolutely, Jodes. Don’t rush. Much as I want her here, I want her to be comfortable in the meantime. We’ve talked about that before. You good on money? I can wire you some if you need…”

“Hush. Claire’s ecstatic to have a reason to shop. We’re fine.”

“Any problems with her, Jodes?”

“Not a one, D. She’s sweet and quiet and polite. About the most polite child I’ve ever seen. Oh, but she did tell Claire yesterday that she’d heard the angels, singing while they worked, and that they had mentioned Castiel, and she’s read the Bible, and Gabriel’s famous.”

“Well, if she’s listening to the angels, that’s probably a good sign, right? I mean, hey, she’s not listening to demons. Could be worse.”

“Just wanted to keep you in the loop.”

“Thanks, Jodes. See you tomorrow, you think?”

“Yeah. We’ll be there by then, sometime in the afternoon, I’m thinking.”

“All right. Drive safe.”

“Will do.” Jody ended the call, paid for the snacks and drinks, and went back out to the car. Claire and Deanna weren’t back from the bathroom, yet. Jody got in the car, and set the loot down to wait.

***

“You leave Claire alone!” Deanna indignantly flicked her wrist, and the demon with its hand on Claire’s arm went flying into a wall.

The second demon smoked out, and vanished through a vent. 

Deanna went over to the one she’d tossed, and told it, “You get out of them. Go back to Hell, demon. I don’t want to see any more of your kind, got it? Get lost!” The demon nodded weakly, and smoked out as well.

Deanna went over to Claire, and helped her up carefully. “Are you all right, Claire? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No, I’m fine, Deanna. Are you okay?”

Deanna smiled and resumed being a typical four-year-old. “Oh, sure. No worries!” 

Claire shook her head, as she followed Deanna back out to the car.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shann seems okay, for the moment, at least!  
> Deanna seems to be able to hold her own, to like angels, and to not like demons. Good way to start, right? ;)
> 
> No art, because this, again, ran a little long.
> 
> Please comment! ;D


	213. Demons and Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demons confer with each other. Claire confers with Jody. Sam confers with Cas. Dean comes back from shopping, and he and Cas make plans.

“You leave Claire alone!” Deanna indignantly flicked her wrist, and the demon with its hand on Claire’s arm went flying into a wall.

The second demon smoked out, and vanished through a vent. 

Deanna went over to the one she’d tossed, and told it, “You get out of them. Go back to Hell, demon. I don’t want to see any more of your kind, got it? Get lost!” She winked at the demon, it nodded weakly, then smoked out as well.

Escaping through a vent, it saw its partner in a trucker, leaning back against the cab of a truck. It quickly found another trucker and took him over, then walked over to its partner.

“Kid’s got good instincts.”

“And a lot of power.”

“We knew that, before. So, follow in the trucks, then?”

“That’s the plan. Keep back, though; she made it plain she doesn’t want us interfering.”

“We’ve gotta do something before they get to the Bunker, though. Don’t we?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Could be she’s got a plan for that, too. Kid’s smart. I’m not worried about the Bunker’s warding, if she’s not.”

“Okay. On your head be it, if we can’t get to her, though.”

***

Claire got Deanna back to the car, and into her car seat. Once she was strapped in, she asked Jody for a quick word.

Claire pulled Jody to about five feet away from the car, and told her what had happened in the bathroom.

“Two demons. Just out of nowhere, Jodes."

"You are both all right, yes?”

“Yeah, one of ‘em laid a hand on my arm, and before it could go any further, Deanna got this disgusted look on her face and flicked her wrist. That was it.”

“Odd that the other smoked out so quickly.”

“Yeah. I didn’t even have my knife out. It was like he knew to be afraid - or to _act_ like it. How did they know we’d be here? How’d they know Deanna was anything special, before she showed her hand by flinging one across the room with a thought and a flick of her wrist? Because they _did_ , Jodes. They knew.” Claire paced a bit in the parking lot.

“Well, I don’t know, Claire. Are you trying to say it’s somehow Deanna’s fault that demons knew she was here? Maybe she sends out a signal that demons can track or sense or something? She is half-demon, after all. But she also listens to the angels sing and knows the Bible. Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay?”

Claire nodded. “Yeah. It’s just weird, Jody. I think we should let Dean know about this.”

“I agree. I’ll call him when we stop for the night. For now, we don’t know how or why they found us out here in the back of beyond. All we know for certain is that you two were attacked, and Deanna handled it. Let’s not read too much into it, okay?”

“Yeah. But I think we both have to stay awake on the road. No more napping for either of us, no matter who’s driving. Just in case.”

“All right. You’ve hunted more than I have in the last couple years. We’ll go with your instinct for now.” Jody patted Claire’s shoulder. “You’re sure you’re all right, sweetie?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go.”

***

Shann was in the library, alone, so far as Sam could see, yet clearly having a lively conversation with someone. From Sam’s vantage point in the War Room, he could see Shann pointing to text in the books, and explaining passages...to no one. 

Cas came up behind Sam quietly. “Hello, Sam.”

Sam jumped, startled. “Cas. Make more noise, man.”

“Sorry. Dean always says he’s going to get a bell for me.” Cas grinned sheepishly. “What’s going on?”

“Just watching Shann… talking to himself.” Sam pointed into the library.

“No, he’s not. He’s talking to Lucifer. We made the switch at lunch time.”

“Oh. _Oh!_ Well, Dean’ll be relieved. How are you feeling, Cas?” Sam asked.

“I’m well, thank you. Shann seems to be fine. Took him a minute to adjust, but then he just seemed… hungry, more than anything.” Cas looked past Sam into the library. “He went right back to work, got into it with Lucifer. Good. That was the point of it, after all.”

“So, Shann didn’t need demon blood? Nick and I both did, until Crowley screwed with Nick’s body. I know you didn’t, but your vessel was already stronger, right?”

“Well, yes. When God promoted me to Seraph after Lucifer, in you, killed me in Stull Cemetery, he made Jimmy’s body over for me. Jimmy went to Heaven, and only I came back, in the strengthened version of his body. And no, Shann didn’t need demon blood. The blood was never for the purpose of housing Lucifer, Sam. It was for the Mark. Lucifer was so corrupted by the Mark that no human that didn’t bear the Mark as well could house him as vessel without the blood, but now that the Mark’s gone, Lucifer’s just back to being an Archangel. Like Michael. Dean never needed anything to be able to house Michael.”

“I thought being an appropriate vessel was at least in part a genetic thing. That the reason that Adam was acceptable as a vessel for Michael was that he was Dean’s brother. Michael also took our dad, briefly. You took Jimmy, and briefly Claire. Does that mean somehow Shann is related to us?”

“It’s possible. The common link could be far, far back though, too far to trace. Heaven kept track of a few bloodlines, and knew about yours - the Campbell and Winchester families’ lines throughout the ages - and manipulated your parents to get together to produce you and Dean, as you know. It’s possible that Shann’s family bears some common lineage, somewhere, that Heaven just didn’t trace. He certainly wasn’t on our radar at any point. But Lucifer seemed to recognize him as a viable candidate immediately.”

Dean entered the Bunker and came down the iron steps to the War Room, laden with bags from his shopping trip. At the foot of the steps, he set the bags down, and called to Sam. “Sammy! Heads up!” He tossed Sam his car keys. “Could you go move the Impala to the garage for me? I needed some things for Deanna, didn’t want to have to make the long slog up from the garage. You’d think the Men of Letters would’ve put an elevator into this place, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, sure, Dean. I’ll go right now. Later, Cas.” Sam headed up the steps, and was gone.

“So what’s going on, Angel?” Dean asked, coming over to Cas.

“Sam was watching Shann.” Cas pointed.

Dean turned to watch. “Who’s he talking to?”

“Lucifer.”

Dean swung back to Castiel. “You mean…?”

“Yes, my heart. Lucifer is no longer sharing my vessel; he’s helping Shann with his research, now.”

Dean gave Cas a tight, relieved hug. “Oh, Cas, you have no idea what a load off my mind that is, that he’s out of you.” He released Cas, and turned again to watch Shann. “But now I’m worried about Shann.”

“Shann seems to be adjusting well. I was just telling Sam. I really think he’ll be just fine, Dean.” Cas smiled softly.

“Still gonna worry.”

“I know, my heart. It’s what you do.” Cas laid a sympathetic hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean automatically moved it down to his bicep.

Cas glanced at his hand on Dean’s arm; Dean caught it, and blushed a little. Cas smiled. “So… one new thing, tonight?”

Dean’s blush grew hotter, but he nodded nevertheless. “Um. Yeah. Sounds good.”

“To me, too, my love. To me, too.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, maybe Deanna's not entirely the sweet little innocent. Hmm.  
> Dean and Cas are back on track, thanks to Lucifer having moved to Shann. 
> 
> Sorry, still no art; this chapter ran a little long, as well. We'll get back to it soon, though, promise!
> 
> Please comment! :D


	214. Work To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody, Claire, and Deanna stop for the night in Pierre, SD (the state's capital). They get checked in and make plans to go shopping and out for dinner. Sam checks in on Shann. Dean paints Deanna's bedroom and tries to assemble decorative furniture.

“Claire, we’re getting close to Pierre; I think we’ll stop there for the night. You want to get on Google and find a motel near the highway?”

“Sure, Jodes.” Claire took a moment on her phone to check out what was available. “There’s a Days Inn right on the highway, looks like it’s right next door to a McDonald’s and an Italian restaurant.”

“So, italian for dinner, MickeyD’s for breakfast?”

“Sounds good to me.” Claire turned to ask Deanna, and discovered that the little girl had fallen asleep, her hand still marking her place in her book. “Awww, she’s all tuckered out.”

“It’s been a big day, and this past week had to have been exhausting for her. Losing her mom, finding out the landlord basically stole everything she owned, having to move in with her less-than-loving aunt and her cousins, having to share a room when she’s always had her own before, then having two strangers come to take her away from everything she’s ever known to live with a father who didn’t know she existed until two days ago? That’s all rough. Any one of those things might wear a little kid out, and she’s been through them all.”

“Yeah. I guess I was being a little harsh, back at the gas station.” Claire looked a little sheepish.

“No, you were going on instinct. You’re a hunter, it’s how you survive, by listening to that little voice that says, ‘this isn’t right.’ Jody smiled at her foster daughter. “I’m glad that little voice is so loud, sometimes.”

Claire smiled back. “Okay, so just stay on this road until you’re almost right at the Missouri River, then it takes a sharp turn right and merges with Hwy 14, and the Days Inn is right on the corner of that turn, on your left.”

“Got it.”

Jody watched for the turn, saw the River and the Days Inn coming up, and swung the car into the parking lot. “Is there a WalMart nearby?”

“I don’t see one. There’s a Family Dollar across the river. A bunch of other stores on both sides. Oh, wait, there it is. There’s a Walmart, if we go back up US-83 to Fourth Street, and go east; there’s a mall called Northridge Plaza and the WalMart’s across the street. Both WalMart and the Mall will be on our right, as we go east on Fourth. Also, it looks like Pierre’s our last chance for gas before we hit I-90 at Vivian, tomorrow, so we’d better fill up again in the morning before we leave.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll go check us in. Wait here, we don’t want to wake Deanna before we have to, and I’ll be right back.” 

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.” 

Jody got out and rustled around in the trunk a moment, pulling out the suitcase, Claire’s duffel bag, and the small bag of things they had for Deanna, which she hauled into the motel with her, planning on taking the bags to the room before coming back out. Claire picked up her bag of chips and finished it off with a couple of bites, then downed her last couple of mouthfuls of Mountain Dew while she waited for Jody to come back.

Deanna started to make shifting noises, then yawned widely, blinking, as she awoke. 

“Hey, sweetie, did you sleep well?” Claire asked, cheerfully.

“I don’t think I made any mistakes, Claire.” Deanna sounded a little confused by the question.

“I mean, do you feel better for having gotten some sleep, do you feel rested?” Claire explained.

“Oh. Yes. I do, thank you for asking. And for clarifying. Where are we?”

“Pierre, South Dakota. We’re stopping here for the night. Jody ran in to get us checked into the motel, and next we’re going to go to the mall and to WalMart and go shopping with you, to get you some things you might need or want. Then I think we’ll go out to dinner, and then come back here and crash, maybe watch a movie. Does that sound good to you?”

“Sure. I guess so. What do you think I need at the store, Claire?”

“Well, new clothes, something to play with, maybe some more books if they have a better bookstore, I know you need a winter coat…”

“But shouldn’t it be my daddy who buys me what I need?”

“I’m sure Dean - your daddy - will take you shopping, too. But y’know, he’s a  _ guy _ . Shopping with me and Jody will be more fun for you, I bet. I don’t know, though, Dean’s a fun guy, maybe it’ll be better with him. But if you don’t shop with us first, how will you know the difference?” Claire grinned.

Deanna giggled. “I think you’re being silly.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Thank you, Claire.”

“For what, sweetheart?” Claire asked.

“Everything.” Deanna replied, simply.

***

Sam entered the library. “Hey, Shann. How’s it going?”

‘Great! I’ve gotten a lot done today.”

“Cas told me that you said ‘yes’ to Lucifer today; is that going all right, so far?”

“Seems to be.” Shann grinned. “I’ve been getting him caught up on what I’ve been working on. Here, I finished my report on the two similar texts by Félix José Gabriel de Unamuno y Jugo, the one from this universe and the one that I brought back from the alternate universe. They have whole chapters that are identical, but large sections of each book are completely different, and the alternate universe’s text has a whole epilogue that’s unique to it, doesn’t even begin to exist in the text from our universe.” Shann handed Sam a copy of his report.

Sam skimmed it quickly. “This is really interesting stuff, Shann.”

“I know, right? Not much chance of publishing, I suppose, but fascinating anyway.”

Sam laughed lightly. “Yeah, not much chance of publishing, no. Sorry about that.”

Shann shrugged. “Eh, s’okay. I wasn’t expecting to publish working here anyway. I’m supposed to be doing just the clerical work. And by the way, the filing’s all caught up, Sam. I know I’ve been kind of borderline obsessed with finishing this, but I’ve still done my other work, you don’t need to worry.”

Sam blinked. “I wasn’t worried, Shann. What you’ve been doing, publishable or not, is extremely valuable to me. No worries, man, even if the clerical stuff had completely fallen by the wayside, which, by the way, I was aware it hadn’t. You’re good. You’re the best person, absolutely the best, that we could’ve found to do this job, Shann. Never think I don’t know how hard you work.”

Shann blushed a little. “Is it hot in here? I feel like it’s a little hot in here.”

_ “That could just be me, Shann. I tend to run hot, I’m afraid.” _

“I’m comfortable, but I can check the thermostat, if you want.”

“Oh - okay.” Shann looked confused.

“Sorry, was Lucifer speaking at the same time?” Sam looked a little amused.

“Yeah, he was. Sorry.”

“No apologies necessary. Hey, Shann, why don’t you take off a little early today? You’ve been working insane hours, I know you’ve taken work home with you, just go home, get some rest, get reacquainted with your own place for awhile, let yourself get used to having Lucifer on board. Hey?”

Shann nodded. “Thanks, Sam, that’d be great. I’m not tired at all, but Cas warned me to take it a little easy, not become too dependent on Lucifer’s powers to sustain me.” Shann started to gather up his work papers and things into a neat stack.

“You don’t need to clean up, man, just go. Get out of here. Go do something physical, drive around in the afternoon air, get some sun. Go on, I’ll take care of this.” Sam waved him out of the library.

Shann didn’t need telling again; he picked up his bag and scooted out, heading up the iron steps to the door and the parking lot.

***

Dean stood in the room that he had decided would be Deanna’s. It was next to the room he shared with Castiel, in case she cried out in the night. She was only four, still little enough to need someone during the night sometimes, right? But old enough to have her own room, and not to need to be right in with him? He needed to talk to Jody about this stuff. 

He had gotten four different sets of bedroom things - sheets, comforter, pillows, throw pillows, soft warm rugs for the floor, etc.; if she didn’t like any of them, they could all go back, but he wanted her to feel at home from the outset, and not feel like she was just a guest at the Men of Letters’ dorm. He’d bought some light pink paint for the walls; if she didn’t like it, they could repaint, or she could have wallpaper, but the dingy beige that had been on the walls just wouldn’t do. This pink was, he thought, now that it was up, light enough that - in the right light - it could pass for an eggshell white. 

He’d gotten a doohickey he’d seen at a craft store he’d been wandering past; you hung it from the ceiling, and draped a few yards of tulle or light fabric over it, and it turned the bed into a tent or a canopy bed. In the store, he had thought that the display model had looked a little romantic, like a little girl’s dream of a fairy bower. 

Now, reading the cryptic directions and looking at the parts needing assembly, he thought it looked more like a little girl’s father’s nightmare.

_ Dean  _

He sighed and started to organize things. 

He could do this. He would do this. 

This was his little girl’s happiness at stake.

He had work to do.

***


	215. Teamwork and Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna's bedroom at the Bunker gets set up. Dean and Cas chat about Dean's therapy homework, and then move on to 'one new thing.'

In the end, it took both Winchester brothers, Castiel, Gabriel, Balthazar, and Jack working together to assemble and hang the canopy frame. It looked so simple, but in fact, they all agreed, it was a torture device, probably invented by Crowley at his worst. But it was finally finished, hanging from the ceiling in what was now Deanna’s room, holding up about 15 layers of white, light pink, and dark rose tulle to form a tent over her bed that looked adorable, as Violet and Hannah agreed when they were called in for their opinions. 

Dean made up the bed with the set that had light pink flannel sheets, a white and pink blanket, and a dark rose comforter, light pink pillow cases and a dark rose throw pillow, and a set of matching plush throw rugs that were a mix of white, pink, and dark rose, to cover the floor from the side of the bed where the “tent” opened to the door to the hallway. For some reason, the Bunker was always just a touch cold in this section, perhaps because it was underground, and Dean thought it would be easier for Deanna to remove covers if she got too hot than for her to try to find additional blankets if she was too cold. 

At Violet’s suggestion, Jack had pulled out the Christmas decorations, found the tiny white twinkle lights, and had strung those up high around the walls. Sam had found some old glow-in-the-dark “stars” stickers and attached those to the ceiling, so when the overhead light was turned off, the room looked like it was a doorway to the galaxy, guarded by fairies, with a fairytale tent in one corner. 

Dean had also purchased an extra floor-to-ceiling bookcase; given what Jody had told him about Deanna’s reading habits, that was going to be necessary. That was now also put together and set up against an otherwise bare spot on the wall, the twinkle lights strung in front of the top shelf. Sam had retrieved some of his favorite books from his own room, and set them on the middle shelf, as a gift for his new niece.

They were finished by early evening, and the group broke up to go get other things accomplished. Cas and Dean took an extra minute at the door to the room, admiring the finished product. All told, it was a very “girly” room, and Dean knew that if Deanna was a tomboy, he was in trouble.

“It looks very nice, Dean. I think any little girl would be very happy with it. Plus, it’s obvious that you put in an effort, and you’re giving her additional choices if she doesn’t like this, for some reason. Relax.” Cas smiled, and tangled his fingers with Dean’s so that their rings touched.

Dean let out a breath, and nodded. “Yeah. Well, it’s the best I can do, for right now. Hopefully, she’ll like it.” He smiled back at his angel. “So, I’ve got some therapy work to do, and something to discuss with you, so, let’s go next door and have a chat, okay?”

“Of course, Dean. You know I always appreciate our talks.” 

They walked the approximately five steps to their room, next door, and went inside, closing the door behind them.

“So, what’s up, Dean?” Cas asked, as he seated himself on the edge of their bed. Dean pulled out the chair from the desk, and turned it to face Cas, then sat in it, and leaned forward. 

“Mia gave me new homework this week, Cas. My assignment last week was to write a letter to my younger self at various ages, as you saw when you read the journal. The last part of that assignment, though, was to write a letter to my future self. And I did, but Mia pointed out that it was a bit short. She said that it looked like the first letter I wrote to my past self, and the last letter that I wrote, to my future self, were both short, and it looked like it was because I hadn’t been sure of what I wanted to say. I said that I really hadn’t known what to write to myself in the future, because I had always kind of assumed that the future was the one thing I had no need to worry about; I had died at 29 and thought that was forever, until you pulled me out of the Pit, Cas. How many times have I died again, since then? And I’ve never been a planner. But one of the things that Mia and I are working on is making plans, and she says that I can’t plan ahead if I have no dreams or goals for the future. 

“So, the homework she assigned for this week was for both of us, you and me. It’s to sit down together, and maybe with Sam and Gabe, too, and think about what we want our futures to look like - where we want to be, what we want to be doing, in ten, twenty, forty years, and then make a plan with you for, say, the next five years. And she wanted to know if you could be available to come with me to my session next week so the three of us can sit down and talk about the plans together. I said I’d have to check with you on your availability, but I didn’t know of anything that would be in the way of you coming with me. So, we left it that I would send her an email and let her know after I’d checked with you. 

“I meant to check with you on Tuesday night, I really did, Cas; but then I spoke with Lilah, and the news about Deanna drove everything else out of my head. So, I apologize, because I promised you that therapy would be my priority, and I let it take a back seat instead.”

Cas waited a beat to be sure that Dean was finished speaking. “You don’t owe me an apology for that, Dean, it’s entirely understandable.”

“No, I do, Cas. It’s understandable, but it’s not excusable. You were right when you said therapy had to come first, no matter what. It still does, no matter how much progress I may have made and no matter what else comes up. I backslid this week. I’ve got some catching up to do.”

Cas smiled gently. “All right, then, I accept your apology. And I promise to be better about reminding you about your therapy work, if it seems like life is getting out of hand again. Is that fair?”

Dean nodded. “Thank you, Angel.”

“I can absolutely come with you on Tuesday afternoon. Why don’t we plan to go out to dinner afterward, just the two of us? I know Deanna will still be settling in, but she’ll need some alone time with Uncle Sam, too. He already mentioned to me that he’s happy to help if we need a babysitter.”

“All right. So, with regard to plans - the only thing I know for certain, Cas, is that wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I want to be with you. There are other things I can think of, like getting the Salvage Yard going and restoring the cars, and raising Deanna, but all of that - every bit of it - is secondary to the plans I want - need - to make with you, Angel. Deanna, Sam, Gabe, they’re family, and they’re important, but you’re my _life_. And that’s not gonna change. I need for you to know that, Cas.”

Cas smiled tremulously, and wiped his eye with the back of his sleeve. “I agree, with the caveat that I think we have to agree that Deanna changes things just a bit, Dean. For both of us. There will be things, like dinner out after therapy, that we do without her, but for the most part, until she’s grown, she’ll have to be a priority for both of us. Not more important than each other, but I would say just  _ as _ important.”

Dean shook his head gently. “No. Cas, we haven’t even met her yet, and maybe I’ll change my mind when we do, but I don’t think so. I’m sure that I will love her fiercely, and want to protect her and spend time with her,  _ et cetera _ , but harsh as it is to say, Cas, if Anne Marie hadn’t died, and I had never found out about Deanna, I would have lived my life just fine not knowing. But I can’t be without _you_ , Cas. I used to think that way about Sam, but that was more from the habits of a lifetime with us living in each others’ pockets. This is different. I’m not saying Deanna isn’t a priority, of course she’s that, and of course, she’s that for _both_ of us, not just me. But you’re not a mere  _ priority _ , Cas. Okay? I need you like I need air to breathe.”

“Dean, you have me, of course; and I love and need you as well. But needing anyone that much, it isn’t healthy. It’s unlikely that you’ll lose me, of course, but we know how fragile an existence this can be - who better than us to know? How many times have we each died and been resurrected? And who would bring us back, were we to die again, now? We both have to accept that the loss of the other is possible, and that if that worst-case scenario were to occur, the other would have to go on, for the sake of Deanna. Like it or not, the knowledge of her existence, now that we have it, does change our dynamic. It has to.”

Dean considered that, and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying, Cas. Just remember, you promised you’d never leave me.” Dean grinned, and Cas smiled back, relieved.

“At any rate, my heart, yes, I am happy to go to therapy with you next week. Now, for the planning, does Mia want something in writing?”

“She didn’t really say, but we’ve always done it where I put things down on paper as I think of them, so as not to forget them later, and then she reads what I wrote and asks questions to clarify anything she doesn’t understand from the face of the writing.”

Cas nodded. “All right, well, let’s plan to write our plans out, then. Anything else that you need to be working on?”

“She said to journal if I felt like it, send the letters to people I thought would be accepting of them, write to additional people that I remembered I hadn’t written to earlier. But the planning ahead’s the main thing I’m meant to be working on.” Dean leaned back in his chair, more relaxed now.

“Well, it’s getting a bit late, and it’s been a big day. Losing Lucifer’s energy kind of tuckered me out a bit. So, I propose that we get to bed a bit earlier than usual, and reconvene a planning session in the morning, after breakfast. Does that work for you, my heart?”

“Yeah, it does.”

Cas’ face lit up mischievously. “Go put your pjs on, Dean.”

“Meet back here in ten?” Dean grinned.

“Make it five. We have some missing time to make up for. My fault, I know, but, still….”

They both rose from their seats, and Dean grabbed his pjs, his robe, his slippers, and his bathroom kit, and headed for the bathroom to change, use the toilet, wash his hands, and brush his teeth. Cas used his grace to quickly clean himself and his clothes, got out a pair of pjs, and changed into them. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, and was waiting when Dean returned.

“I think that might have been more than five minutes, Dean.”

“How can you tell? We have no clocks.” Dean looked at Cas as if wondering what the angel was up to now.

Cas smiled. “Are you arguing with me, Dean? Or are you going to be a good boy?”

Dean laughed quietly. “Oh, I see. Someone wants to be in charge tonight, hmm?”

“Mmhmm. I like watching you tremble as I take you apart, love, knowing that it’s not from fear, knowing that you know I have only your best interests at heart, and that I’ll put you back together feeling better than you have in a very long time.”

“Mmm. I like that, too, Angel. So, what’s our ‘one new thing’ tonight...Sir?” Dean asked, quietly.

Cas grinned. He stood, leaned in, and kissed Dean gently. Dean allowed it, passively, holding still, letting Cas be in control of where the kiss went, when it deepened, when Cas licked into his mouth. Cas moved slowly down Dean’s neck, sucking softly, leaving light marks that would all fade by morning. Dean continued to stand still, letting Cas do as he would.

“Shirt off now, Dean.” Cas removed his own, as well, as Dean pulled his pj top off over his head. Both ended up on the floor in a heap. They grinned at each other.

“May I remove the pants, as well, Sir?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “Good boy.”

Dean slid the pj pants down and kicked them over into the heap as well.

“Lie down, Dean, on top of the blankets, face up, and stretch your arms up over your head for me, please, my heart.”

Dean did as instructed, and Cas seated himself on the edge of the bed next to Dean, leaning over to trace a gentle finger down over Dean’s chest and abdomen, following his treasure trail to his cock, already half-hard. Dean hummed softly, enjoying the feather-light touch.

Cas bent and sucked gently on Dean’s nipples, first one, then the other, kissing softly across his chest between them, murmuring, “love you,” between each kiss. 

Dean gasped, then moaned softly. “Love you, too, Sir. So much.”

“Dean, I want to be inside you tonight. And when you wake in the morning, hard as usual, I want you to reciprocate so that I wake with you already inside me. I’m tired enough without Lucifer’s energy that I’ll actually sleep, but you’ll have to move gently and carefully to manage it without waking me until you’re in deep. That'll be our 'one new thing.' Do you think you can do that for me, baby?”

Dean hummed and nodded. “Yes, Sir. I think I can manage it.”

“Good boy. Is it all right if I’m the one inside tonight, baby?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m yours. Please, Sir.” Dean looked up at Castiel and smiled with all the love and trust in his heart...and began to glow gently.

“Dean, you’re glowing, my heart. Tamp it down a bit.”

“Yes, Sir. Just happy, Sir.”

“I know, love. It’s good to see. But let’s keep it contained now, all right? It’s good practice.”

“Yes, Sir.” Dean concentrated, and the light dimmed again.

“Nicely done, love.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Dean and Cas to come, this was just running a bit long and that was a good place to stop for the moment. Sorry for the slight cliffhanger!
> 
> No art - again, running long - sorry for that, too!
> 
> Please comment! :D


	216. Hot in Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel takes control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is decidedly NSFW! Sorry (not sorry!)!

Cas smiled down at Dean, then bent to kiss his lips gently. Dean lay passive, again letting Castiel have full reign over the kiss. Cas again kissed his way down Dean’s neck, Dean turning his head slightly to give him better access, but otherwise staying still as he knew Cas preferred.

“Such a good boy,” Cas complimented him. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. 

Cas stood and slipped off his own pj pants, which joined the rest of the pajamas in the pile on the floor. While he was up, he got the bottle of lube out of the bedside table’s drawer, then returned to the bedside, looking down at Dean. “Look at you, so pretty, all stretched out for me, Dean. Spread your legs for me now, baby, but keep them flat, don’t bend your knees.”

Dean obeyed quietly, sliding his legs apart. Cas climbed up onto the bed, and knelt between Dean’s knees, setting the bottle of lube down to his right on the bed. He stroked gently up the insides of Dean’s thighs with the tips of his fingers, smiling softly as Dean shivered lightly, gasping softly.

“Does that tickle, love?”

“A little, Sir. Feels good.”

“Tell me what you want me to do, Dean. Where should I touch you next to give you that shivery good feeling, my heart?”

“Anywhere you like, Sir. I’m yours to do with as you please.” Dean opened his eyes, and smiled softly up at Cas.

“But I gave you a direction, Dean. I told you to tell me what you want me to do. I might do it, I might not. But I want you to tell me what you want.” Cas smiled softly back at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir; I misunderstood. I would like for you to touch me on my hips and lower abdomen.”

“That’s better.” Cas leaned down and, splaying his hands open wide, ran them up Dean’s outer thighs, over his hips, and began to rub lightly at the top of Dean’s hipbone, as he bent to lick softly at the skin of Dean’s lower abdomen, getting it damp, then gently blowing cool air over the wet patch, enjoying watching Dean shiver as the tiny hairs stood up on end.

“Ohhhh, Sir. That’s… that’s very good….” Dean moaned softly, as Castiel repeated his actions a few times, each time going a bit lower, getting closer to Dean’s groin. 

“I love you, Dean.” Cas repeated it over and over as he slowly moved downward.

“Y-yes, Sir. I l-love you, too, Sir.” Dean gasped, trembling already, his eyes falling shut again.

“It takes so little to get you to a fever pitch, my heart.” Cas smiled, seeing that Dean was now fully hard. He bent and took Dean into his mouth, sucking lightly at the head of Dean’s cock. Not expecting it, Dean’s eyes flew open and his back arched off the bed slightly.

“Ohhhh, Sir… p-please….”

Cas raised his head. “Please...what, Dean? Are you asking me to stop, to continue as I am, or to take you all the way to the root and suck you dry? What would you have me do, my heart, if it were up to you?”

Dean shook his head. “P-please don’t stop, Sir!”

“Who is in charge of your pleasure, Dean? Me, or you?”

“Y-you, Sir. I trust you to give me what I need.”

“Do you think your wishes matter, Dean?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“Oh, but there, you’re wrong, my heart. Your wishes are _all_ that matter to me, baby. I will only _ever_ do to you things you’ve asked me for before, new things that I give you as a choice, or things that you come up with and verbalize a desire for on your own. Everything I’ve done so far tonight has been something I know that you’ve enjoyed in the past, things you’ve told me you liked, things you’ve begged for. I will never harm you, Dean. Never go against your wishes. I want to give you what you want, love. And you’re being so good for me, laying still, keeping your arms up above your head on the pillows, though I never told you you couldn’t move them. I never said you had to lie still, Dean. Not today. You assumed that from our previous intimacies, and it pleases me that you remembered, but if you want to move, you may, unless told not to, and I haven’t told you not to. Were you afraid that I would somehow punish you for arching up when I did something you weren’t expecting? No. I would never.” 

Cas slid up Dean’s chest, blanketing Dean gently with his own body, smiling softly down at him. “I love you, Dean. I want only what you want, baby. But how can I know what that is, if you don’t tell me? And you so rarely volunteer the information, so I have to ask. I don’t ask to embarrass you or trick you, my love. Only for information, to better give you the pleasure that you deserve.” Cas bent to kiss Dean again, and this time, Dean didn’t stay still, but raised his head and pressed back against Cas’ lips to deepen the kiss immediately, his hands coming up to frame Cas’ face gently.

“I love you, too, Cas.”

“Mmm.” Cas hummed his approval, then slid back to his previous kneeling position between Dean’s knees. He again bent his head and took Dean into his mouth, and Dean again couldn’t help arching slightly. He continued to hum around Dean’s cock, suckling gently, as he opened the bottle of lube and got his fingers wet. Dean moaned, his head thrown back on the pillow, eyes closed.

Cas reached between Dean’s legs with his left hand and gently pushed his cheeks apart, as, with his right hand, he brought a finger up to rub gently around Dean’s rim. 

Dean gasped as the cold lube touched his hot flesh, shivering again in reaction. Cas smiled around his cock, and Dean could feel his lips widening with it, causing a different angle, a different feeling. “Oh, Sir, so g-good.”

Cas slid the tip of one finger into Dean, the lube warming with the contact. Dean trembled again in abject pleasure, moaning softly.

Cas licked a stripe up the back of Dean’s cock, then blew cool air down it, and smiled as he watched Dean shiver. “Love you, my heart.”

He slid the finger in deeper, and watched as Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing his muscles to let him in more easily. “Good boy.” He worked the finger deeper, slid it around to better lubricate Dean’s channel, then slowly pulled it out, added more lube, and slid it back in, deeper still, enjoying Dean’s squirming and soft whimpers of pleasure, which, he was quite sure Dean didn’t realize, and would never admit, that he was making. Cas slid the one finger out, added more lubricant, and slid two fingers in slowly, twisting gently, scissoring to stretch the muscles. Dean moaned quietly, raising his hips slightly to give Cas’ hand better access.

“Such an excellent boy. So good for me. So sweet, love you, love you so much.” Cas murmured words of praise and love over and over as he continued to work Dean gently, adding a third finger and more lubricant.

Dean looked up at Cas. “I’m ready, Sir, please.”

Cas nodded. “Tell me what you want, Dean.” He smiled softly.

“Please come inside of me and make love to me, Cas.” Dean smiled back, relaxed and pliant.

“Excellent, so good for me.” Cas crept forward an inch or two. “Bend your knees and put your feet flat on the bed, Dean, raise your hips up onto my thighs, love.”

Dean did as instructed, Cas’ hands gently aiding him in gliding upward so that his knees were to either side of Cas’ hips, his entry poised just above Cas’ cock. Cas dribbled some lube onto himself, and slid his hand once up and down to spread it around, then lined up and gently began to push into Dean. “Lower yourself onto me, Dean; push down, love.” 

Dean raised himself up onto his elbows, and bore down at a slightly better angle, feeling himself open around Cas as Cas slid inside slowly from beneath him. Cas spread his knees apart slightly, bearing the weight of Dean’s thighs, and trapping Dean from rising back up without permission. Cas’ hand came around the base of Dean’s cock and began to gently stoke it, as he bent his knees to raise his hips up slightly, then came back down onto his heels again, over and over, thrusting gently like a piston in an engine, Dean helpless to do anything at all but go along for the ride. Dean fell back flat on his back again, trembling.

“S-so g-gooooood, Cas. So… good… Sir,” he repeated again and again, at a loss for any other words, Cas’ slow and gentle pace trapping him in pleasure.

“Shall I continue on like this, my heart? I could do this for hours and never tire of watching your face, hearing you moan for me, Dean. You’ll ride me, and take this pleasure for as long as I choose to give it to you, won’t you, love?”

“Y-yes, Sir. p-please, p-please, don’t stop, Sir, p-please, so g-good, Sir!”

“I won’t stop, love. You’ll take all I can give you. You are mine, Dean, and I am yours. Always.”

“Yes, Sir. Ohhhh, Cas. Love you so much.”

“I love you too, my heart. Feel me inside you? Feel my hand wrapped around you? Feel my thighs, holding you open for me? Take all of that, Dean. Take it. Own it. I love you.”

“Yes. I feel it. Cas, Sir, p-please, may I….”

“Not yet, Dean. Not quite yet, baby. Hold on to it for me, love.”

Cas leaned forward slightly, changing the angle a bit, and smiled as Dean cried out. 

“Right there? Shall I do that again, my heart? Over and over, find that spot, until you’re begging, trembling, until you’ve forgotten your own name from the pleasure I give you? Shall I, love? Tell me.”

“Yes! Cas, please! Please!” Dean’s head was thrown back again, his arms back above his head, stretched out, but his hands were twisting in the pillowcases, trying to find purchase, a way to brace for the impact that he could not avoid, didn’t want to avoid. Cas smiled, knowing Dean was a hairsbreadth away from losing control.

Cas leaned forward and kissed Dean’s neck, then whispered, “Now, Dean. Come for me now.”

Cas leaned back up, and watched as Dean erupted, gasping for breath. Cas picked up the pace, riding Dean harder, faster. 

Dean begged. “Please, more. Sir, please, please, harder, faster, Cas, please, I want it, want _you_ , please come, Cas, _please_.” And that tipped him over the edge, and Cas gasped as his vision whited out momentarily, and he spurted deep into Dean. 

Cas fell forward onto his hands, and pulled slowly out of Dean. They were both trembling, now. Dean reached up and wrapped his arms around Castiel, pulling him close. Now Dean whispered softly words of reassurance, as Cas shivered, depleted, snuggled up in Dean’s arms, blinking.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. *fans self* It's hot in here. Who turned the thermostat all the way up to... oh. 72F. Hmm. ;D
> 
> No art, because, let's face it, I'm already invading their privacy too much! ;)
> 
> Please comment!


	217. Love, Sex, and Plotting Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes a shower and cleans up in the morning. Dean chats with Sam in the kitchen and Gabe comes in, in desperate need of caffeine. Deanna slips out of the hotel and speaks to the demons following them. She goes back inside, and the demons have a chat of their own. Dean does as Cas asked, and manages quite well to accomplish their 'one new thing.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is decidedly NSFW! Sorry (not sorry!)!

Cas fell deeply asleep almost immediately; Dean lay awake, holding his angel gently, awash in the obdurate love shown to him by his fiance, for some time, before his own eyes finally fluttered shut.

Dean awoke a few hours later. He wasn’t sure of the time; the lack of clocks was starting to drive him nuts, and with the Bunker having no windows, even his internal clock was taking a bit of a beating. He needed to use the bathroom, and wash up a bit, so he slid quietly out of bed, careful not to wake Cas, and put his robe on. He slipped out, and down the hall to the lavatory.

Dean turned the shower on and, while waiting for the water to heat up, used the toilet. He glanced in the mirror, and again saw that his face looked younger, more relaxed. He knew that Cas was responsible. He hung his robe on the hook on the wall next to the shower, and stepped under the spray. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, digging into his scalp slightly. He blinked the water out of his eyes, and stepped back a little, using the body wash to clean himself up, then stepped back under the tap to rinse. The hot water soothed the tiny strains in his thighs from Cas stretching him, just a little, right at the end, when he’d been riding Dean hard. He smiled, remembering. He was a little proud of having been able to make Cas’ control slip even that little bit.

_How is it possible for Cas to be that in charge and yet only ever give pleasure, so lovingly, so completely? So unlike anyone else I’ve ever been with, only wanting to give me what I need, never hurting me, just being good for me._

Dean shook his head a little, in continued amazement at how lucky he was to have Castiel. He was going to have to repay the favor.

He turned off the water, toweled dry, put his robe back on, and went to start the coffee. If he was going to do as Cas had requested, and do it right, he was going to need some caffeine first.

***

Sam was in the kitchen, tying his running shoes and waiting for Gabe, already sipping on his own mug of coffee, when Dean walked in.

“Oh, hey, Sammy. I guess it’s later than I thought. Either that, or you’re getting a really early start today?”

“Yeah, I am. Gabe and I are going running. I’ve decided to run the Chisholm Trail Marathon in Wichita in March, so I need to train up a bit. And Mia wants me to call her each morning for a half-hour, rather than coming to the office once a week, before 10:00, so I have to get out the door and back in time for that.”

“Smart. Get you talking more and out of your head.”

“That’s what she said!”

Dean snickered, and Sam swatted his arm.

Gabe came in, looking like something a cat might have dragged in. “Coffeeeeee,” he moaned.

Dean looked at him pityingly and poured him a mug. Gabe took it gratefully.

“Gabe, you don’t have to come with me,” Sam tried.

“Ah-ah-ah, no, Samshine. If _you’re_ running, _I’m_ coming with, that’s final.”

“But you hate running, Gabe.” Sam shot Dean a look, as if to ask _him_ to reason with Gabe, but Dean just raised his hands in a “leave me out of this” gesture.

Dean patted Gabe’s shoulder gently in solidarity, and left the room, his own mug in hand.

“Gabe….”

“Sam. Please, baby. Humor me. I promise, I won’t whine, I won’t beg to stop, I’ll keep up, and I won’t use my wings. But I’m coming with you. I need to know that you’re safe. In the Bunker is one thing. Out there, in the open, unwarded? Nope. Not alone, Sam.”

Sam gave up. He loved that Gabe cared, and he loved having Gabe with him when he ran, but he didn’t like feeling like he was dragging Gabe into doing something that Gabe would rather not be doing, and would never be doing on his own. He felt selfish, but he knew Gabe was set on it, so he stopped arguing the point.

***

Deanna woke early. She could see that the sun wasn’t up yet, and neither were Claire or Jody. She smiled softly at Claire. She was actually quite fond of both of the women, but she particularly enjoyed Claire’s humor.

She got up, grabbed the keycard from the dresser where Jody had left it, putting it in her pocket. Then she quietly crossed to the door, unlocked it, and slipped out into the hall. She quickly went down the hall to the stairwell at the outside end, away from the registration desk, and headed down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, she slipped outside the door, and held it open while she found a rock to put in it so she could get back in the building. 

Then she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sky, concentrated briefly, then reopened her eyes, and waited, listening. She smiled when she saw the twin smoke trails rise up from the trucks in the parking lot across the street, and head towards her.

The smoke trails stopped about three feet from her, and bobbed in place, as if bowing to her.

“Hello, my friends. I appreciate that you wanted to try to help earlier, but I need you to wait until called. I don’t want the women harmed, at all. Hands off. I may decide that I don’t want anyone hurt, here. I have to see what he’s like, and what the others who live with him are like; I understand there are angels there, and I don’t want you hurt, either, my friends. So, here’s my plan: I get there, I meet him, I decide if he can be trusted. If so, I’ll let you know, and you can go on with your lives. If not, then I’ll get him outside, and you can have him. But nothing goes down without my say. Hear?”

She listened to their silent whispers in her ear.

“I don’t care how long you’ve had a grudge against him. You think _Rowena_ will be happy with you if you bring him down without a reason? She _likes_ the Winchesters, you told me that yourself. I may find that I like them, too. If I do, you don’t get to lay a finger on them. Understood?”

She listened again.

“No, that _won’t_ do. If that’s your attitude, fine. This ends here.” She twisted her wrist, and the smoke trails started to dissipate, and twisted in mid-air, clearly panicking. She relaxed her hand, and the smoke regathered.

“Am I clear? _I_ am in charge, here. Yes?”

She listened again, and clearly liked the answer better. “Now go back to your truckers and wait. I believe the plan is to leave here in the morning and drive straight through, stopping only as needed for gas. Follow discreetly. When we near the Bunker, ditch the trucks; you’ll stand out too much in them. Now, I’m going back in, and I don’t want to see you two again until I call.”

She watched as the smoke trails sailed back across the street to the trucks. She bent and removed the rock from the door, and slipped back inside. She hurried back to the room, and let herself in quietly. She smiled as she saw she hadn’t needed to worry. Claire and Jody were still sound asleep.

She bent down and pulled the blanket up over Claire and tucked her in gently. She really did quite like Claire.

Then she pulled out her book and sat down on the couch to read until the ladies woke.

***

The demons met between the trucks in the parking lot across the street.

“I’m getting tired of that little bitch.”

“Calm down. She’s powerful. We knew that going in. It’s worth it, if she gives us the Winchesters.”

“Is it? If we take the Winchesters out, without her _permission_ , which we shouldn’t need, and she ends us? Or Rowena finds out, and she ends us? Is that _worth it_ , Gray?”

“I think it is, yeah. I’ve got a taste for Winchester blood, Hank. I want it, even if I get punished for it later. It’s worth it, to me. If it isn’t, to you, then maybe you’re not the right demon for this gig. Decide, Hank. In, or out?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m in.” Hank grumbled, but Gray knew that Hank was every bit as fed up with the Winchesters as he. 

Gray was pissed. First, Crowley’s little bromance with Dean. Then, Rowena just taking over as Queen of Hell and declaring the fucking Winchesters off limits. The nerve! Sure, Sam Winchester had a claim on the throne; so what? He’d never wanted it, had denied it many times, never tried to take it. He wasn’t _Gray’s_ king, that was for sure. And Gray knew Hank felt the same way; he’d complained and whined and grumbled about the Winchesters for years, right along with Gray. They’d take the Winchesters out, with or without Deanna Rose’s help, and then they’d go do something about that ginger bitch on the throne. What was it with gingers thinking they could just ride in and take over Hell, anyway? First Abaddon, now Rowena. Fucking ginger women. Gray was smarter’n all of’em. Maybe _he_ should put in a claim on the throne. Why not?

***

Dean took off his robe and slid quietly back into bed, behind Cas. Now he needed to be careful and quiet, so as not to wake Cas, per Cas’ instructions, until he was buried deep inside of the angel’s ass. He found the bottle of lubricant where Cas had discarded it earlier, and dripped a little over his fingers, then slid his hand gently around his half-hard cock, stroking it the way he liked best, trying to grow to his full length as quickly as he could. 

He considered briefly how to prep Cas without waking him; it had been awhile since Cas had taken him in, and he’d _need_ prep, angel or no. Then Dean decided he’d just have to be very quiet, and very careful to move slowly and gently, and that was the best he could do. So long as he tried his best, he knew Cas wouldn’t be angry if he failed, and Cas woke a little too soon. The point, after all, was to enjoy themselves and to show their love for each other. But he wanted to do the best he could to meet Cas’ request and maybe fulfill one of Cas’ fantasies. After all, Cas had certainly fulfilled many of his own.

Only when his own cock was rock hard did Dean move to the next step. He got his fingers wet, and carefully found Cas’ entrance, rubbing very gently around the rim, watching as it fluttered open a tiny bit. He smiled, and slipped the tip of his index finger into that tiny opening, then dripped some lube onto the base of his finger, letting it slide down his finger and into Cas’ ass, warming the lube as it moved so that the chill wouldn’t be a shock that might awaken him.

Then he gently pushed the finger deeper, slowly, and wiggled it subtly. He added more lubricant, and a second finger almost at once, as Cas opened to his touch easily, almost like Cas’ grace was recognizing and welcoming Dean, as if Cas’ grace was itself volitional. 

_Who knows, maybe it is. Maybe Cas knew that would happen._

Dean watched intently as the opening stretched around his fingers. He thought he saw a hint of shiny blue, and smiled. 

_That looked like angel grace. If I’m right, then I know that Cas won’t be harmed by my touch, and I can relax a bit._

He saw another hint of blue, as a tiny bit of grace appeared to peek out for a moment, almost like it was inviting him in. He was focused on being quiet, or he would have laughed. He added more lubricant and a third finger, and now he could clearly see the grace moving next to his fingers, appearing to be assisting with readying Cas for Dean to take.

Dean scooted a little closer, and lined up his cock with Cas’ entrance, and he did huff out a quiet laugh as he saw two tendrils of grace appear right at the edge of the hole, and hold Cas open for him. He grinned, and slid slowly and gently inside, and thought he could feel the grace moving around his cock, sheltering him and aiding him in getting in deep before Cas could wake, as Cas had asked him to do.

_It’s fully cooperating with me. It knows Cas wants this. So cool!_

And then, he was in, balls deep, and he could feel the grace recede. Clearly, it was time to start moving, and if Cas woke now - well, this was what he had said he wanted. Dean pushed in a tiny bit further, then drew back, and pushed again.

Cas’ eyes fluttered open, and he gasped softly. “Ohhhh. Dean. You clever, clever man. You _did_ manage.”

Dean pulled back and pushed forward again, surging forward, then kissed Cas’ neck and whispered, “Your grace helped, Cas. It held you open and helped me prep you. Are you sure you were really asleep, babe?”

Cas looked a little startled at that. “Um, yes, I was really asleep, Dean. It helped you? Well. That's news.”

Dean huffed out another quiet little laugh, and rolled them so that Cas was lying flat, with Dean on top. “Spread your legs for me, Angel. It’s my turn now to be in charge, and give you exactly what you want and need. And I mean to do just that.”

Cas grinned into the pillow, and did as instructed, sliding his legs apart, and then pushing back a little, raising his hips for Dean.

“Mmm. That’s it, Angel. Open to me. Feel me inside you, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. I feel you.”

“How does that feel, baby? Does it feel good?”

“ _So_ good, Dean.”

Dean smiled and pushed deeper. “Harder, Cas? Faster? Or slow and tender? How shall I take my angel this morning? Tell me how to best give you what you want and need, baby.”

Cas swallowed hard. “I think that _all_ sounds amazing, Dean.”

“Oh? So, if I said I wanted to ride you hard to a fast completion, making you forget your name in the throes of passion, you’d like that, would you?” Dean chuckled a little, softly, doing almost the exact opposite, as he gently stroked in and out in miniscule tender motions, listening to Cas as he gasped for breath like a landed fish.

“Yes, I’d like that, Dean. I’d love that. But I like what you’re doing now, too. Ohhhh, I _love_ what you’re doing now, in fact.” Cas moaned.

Dean smiled, and kept doing it, grinding gently, holding Cas down with his body, blanketing Cas softly, mouthing over Cas’ back gently, licking, kissing, and now and then whispering softly words of love and praise. Cas trembled beneath him, as Dean held him still, allowing no friction, yet making Cas feel every motion, every nerve singing Dean’s praises.

“I love you so much, Castiel. Love you, need you, always want you.” Dean murmured to his lover, still giving Cas no friction, no purchase against his little grinding constant thrusts. “Am I frustrating you, baby? Giving you only what you asked for, and nothing more? I’m not giving you much to work with, am I, just keeping the heat on a low simmer? Well, take it, Cas, take this and so much more. Take my heart, all my love, everything I have, everything I am. All of it, all yours, Cas. As you are mine. _Mine_.” Dean ground a little deeper and brushed deliberately across Cas’ prostate on the last word, and Cas cried out softly, gasping.

“Yes, Dean. Yours. Always.”

“My angel. _Mine_.” Dean found that spot again, and began to grind against it purposefully, reiterating his claim on his angel with each slight surge forward and down. “Mine, Cas. Mine. _Mine_. Say it, Cas.”

“Yours, Dean. Always. Yours. I’m yours. Always. Yours, yours, _yours_ ! _Dean_!”

Cas erupted suddenly, spilling into the sheets, startling himself, as he hadn’t realized he was remotely close to coming.

Dean smiled and kissed Cas’ neck, still grinding deep. “That’s right, Angel. _Mine_. And I’m yours, never doubt it, Cas. I belong to you, body and soul. But right now, _I’m_ in charge. And I want you to beg me, Cas. Tell me you want me. C’mon, Angel. I want to hear you.”

“Please, Dean. Please fuck me, harder, faster, move, _please_ , take me, I’m yours, Dean, _please_ ,” Cas almost sobbed with pleasure. 

Dean finally listened, and started to move, riding Cas harder, pulling his hips up sharply to start sliding nearly all the way out, then plunging all the way back in, faster, Cas crying out with each deep thrust, continuing to beg for Dean to take him, use him, ride him.

Dean reached around and found Cas’ cock, still half-hard, and stroked it as he thrust. Cas being an angel, and having no refractory period at all, he was immediately fully hard again at Dean’s touch. He gasped for breath. 

“Dean, _please,_ can I... _._ ”

“You didn’t ask for permission the first time, Cas, and you’ll have to wait a bit for a second orgasm. You can come when I do, not before.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Love you, Angel.”

“Love you, too, my heart, so much,” Cas gasped out.

Dean could feel that he was getting close. “It’s almost time, baby. I’m… close. You are… so good…. My angel, my love. So… good for me. Ohhhh,” and then he came, crying out, feeling Castiel release again beneath him.

Dean slumped forward a little, and Cas collapsed onto the blankets. They rolled to their side, and Dean moaned as he slowly pulled out of Cas. Cas got his breath, then used his grace to clean them up a bit, then just lay still in Dean’s arms, enjoying the closeness.

Dean smiled. “Always the snuggler.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“That’s all right, Cas. I don’t mind a bit.” Dean closed his eyes to rest them for a bit, and fell fast asleep.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean are so good together, and for each other. Dean needs so much to know that he's loved, and Cas won't ever let him forget it. :)
> 
> Gabe and Sam are good for each other, too, though Gabe's looking just a tiny bit the worse for wear there! Get some caffeine in you, there, Archangel Boy! LOL
> 
> See? As stated in comments to earlier chapters, Deanna's not bad, she just doesn't know who to trust. She probably shouldn't be trusting two demons, but hey, she's four, and Heaven is closed, Angel Radio's turned off, and as far as she knew, she could only hear it when it was on; she doesn't have a wide choice of allies who aren't biased toward Dean. She wants someone who'll be on her side, should it come to that.
> 
> Gray and Hank are idiots, but hey, they're demons; are you surprised? LOL
> 
> And then we get Dean and Cas' "one new thing" - so, just as hot? Hotter? Not quite? Let me know what you think!
> 
> Still no art, this ran LONG! ;)
> 
> Please comment! Love you! :D


	218. The Best-Laid Plans...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam outruns Gabe. Cas and Dean sit down to plan.

Gabe concentrated on the sounds of their feet hitting the pavement. First, Sam’s heavy footfall -  _ thump _ . Then his own, lighter -  _ tap tap  _ \- two, because he had to run two steps to every one of Sam’s just to keep up. Then Sam’s other foot -  _ thump _ . Then his own again -  _ tap tap _ . 

Suddenly, he heard a welcome sound - the train siren that warned that a train would be passing through. They’d have to stop and wait for it to pass, no way around it, and he might get his breath back. He wasn’t even sure how far they’d gone, or how much further Sam intended to go, but he was pretty sure he was in imminent danger of turning blue. Not that he’d raise that issue, even had he been capable of doing so. He’d promised not to whine, and that was a promise he’d keep if it killed him (and it might). But if Sam noticed he was in distress, he wouldn’t complain about heading back a little earlier than intended.

When they did, indeed, stop to wait for the train - a good 25 feet back from the tracks, just in case - Gabe bent over and rested his hands on his knees, drawing in deep breaths and trying to hold them in a little. 

“You okay, baby?” Sam asked.

Gabe nodded.

“Gabe, you’re not. You look like hammered crap, sweetheart. C’mon, there’s a bench over here, let’s go sit for a minute.”

Gabe continued to wheeze as they walked the small distance to the bench. He collapsed on it, and let his head hang between his knees, torn between trying to catch his breath, and trying not to vomit.

“That’s it, Gabe. You can’t keep up, and you can’t keep doing this to yourself, baby.”

“How… far… did… we… get?” Gabe gasped.

“I was planning on running forty miles; we’ve gone about 33. But I don’t think you can make it seven more miles home. I think I’m gonna have to call Dean and have him come and pick you up.”

“No,,, Sam… I… I can… I can make it… I swear.”

“Gabe, there’s being supportive, and then there’s suicide.”

“You’re… not… running… alone.” Gabe tried to look stern, but it was difficult while wheezing like an old goat. Sam just smiled softly at him for a moment, then lifted Gabe’s right foot into his lap and started rubbing Gabe’s calf.

“Ohhhhh. Ow! Ohhhhhhhh… Sam… Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Gabe slumped on the bench, and closed his eyes. 

“Gabe, how about if, just this once, I let you use your wings? Then it wouldn’t be such an effort for you to keep up, and I won’t have to worry that you’re about to pass out on me and take a dirt nap.” Sam pulled Gabe’s left leg up and switched calves.

Gabe nodded weakly. “Okay.”

The train had been gone a good five minutes, at least, when they finally stood again. Sam had to help Gabe to his feet.

“Okay, here’s how this is gonna go. I’m going to run. You’re going to watch. When I start getting small in your vision, or if I go around a bend, you’ll fly to just slightly ahead of me, and wait for me to catch up to your position. Then I’ll run past, and you’ll watch again. If I need you for something, I’ll signal you. You’ll have me in your sights, and with your wings at the ready, you won’t have to worry about being right at my heels all the time. Okay?”

Gabe nodded again. “Okay.”

Sam smiled, and leaned in to kiss the archangel’s cheek softly. “I really do love that you care enough to try, baby. You’ll get it. It just takes practice.” And then Sam was off down the path, and Gabe was watching him go.

_ Hate to see him go, love to watch him leave. Mm. _

***

Dean and Cas sat down at the kitchen table with some paper and a pen each. 

“Dean, this is your therapy, and you know Mia, so, how do you think we should begin?” Cas asked.

“Damned if I know, Cas.” Dean shrugged. “I’m not trying to be difficult, really, I’m not. I just find it hard to think ahead. Five years out seems like forever, to me. Hell, Cas, I’m having trouble seeing ahead past our wedding to the honeymoon; no idea where to go, none. I have no idea how to do this.”

Cas smiled. “I think you’re making this harder than it needs to be, Dean. Why don’t we start with what we want to accomplish by the end of this year, in the next six weeks? Just that far, hmm?”

Dean swallowed hard, and nodded. “Um, all right. Six weeks. Sure. Um. Well. I- I want to be sure Deanna is settled in here, and as happy as she can be, given the circumstances.”

Cas started writing. “That’s a good one. What else?”

Dean considered. “Given what Jody’s telling me about her reading habits, I assume she’s a smart kid, so we should probably look at options for her education? I mean, she won’t be starting school until next fall, but maybe she should go to a special school for gifted kids? Or maybe be home-schooled? I just think we should maybe start that research now.”

Cas nodded. “That’s two. Anything not related to Deanna? How about the Salvage Yard? What do you want to accomplish there by year’s end?”

Dean had a little more confidence in his voice, now. “I need to hire a couple of people. Security, sales, someone to go to auctions for us. Which means I need to look through those applications you brought back, and get up to Sioux Falls at some point for interviews.”

“You could probably do the interviews over the phone. Or over the internet,” Cas suggested. They smiled at each other.

_ Cas and Dean  _

“Yeah, but at some point, I really need to get back up there and dig into the records and the inventory for myself. I can do a lot of things through people I hire, but starting up, I have to know this stuff for myself. Can’t get familiar with the contents of the Yard unless I’m actually standing  _ in _ the Yard.”

Cas continued writing. “Okay, so, then, at least one trip to Sioux Falls by years’ end.”

“Yeah.”

“And the cars here, in the Bunker’s garage?”

“I think the Aston Martin’s in the best shape, and would be easiest to sell. Maybe the goal for the end of the year is to do some research into selling through the regional auction or online sales, and checking the car over, making sure it’s in sale condition, so I don’t go embarrassing the business.”

Cas wrote those goals down. “And besides Deanna, what about personal relationships?”

“Well, figuring out where we’re going on our honeymoon? Planning the wedding? Hell, Cas, picking a date.”

“Okay, and your relationships with people other than me? Sam? Gabe? Jack?”

Dean went blank. “I don’t know. Do I need to accomplish anything with any of them? I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Cas.”

“I’m not insinuating anything, Dean, I’m asking. If you don’t think there’s anything to be done in those relationships, that’s fine.”

“Well, there is one thing….” Dean paused, thinking.

Cas simply waited.

“In one of our sessions, I told Mia about Emma and the Amy Pond incident. I thought she’d insist on my talking with Sam about how upset I still am that he killed Emma, but she didn’t. She said that I needed my relationship with Sam more than I needed to have that confrontation. That I should give myself permission to feel the anger that I feel, but to let it out in some way  _ other  _ than through fighting with Sam. And I thought maybe you and I could go down to the boiler room, and you could soundproof it, and we could role play, with you being Sam, so I had a safe place to get that emotion out, without actually taking it out on Sam.”

Cas looked troubled, and he stopped writing. “Dean, I like the notion of you letting out those toxic feelings in a safe way. And you know that I support you. But I’m not certain that I should be the person with whom you do the role playing in that situation. We’ve had our own troubled past, and I’m concerned that if you and I were in a soundproofed room, with you letting out all that anger at Sam that you’ve tamped down for so long, that my own insecurities would rise up again. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to play that role for you, Dean. There have just been too many times when I’ve felt that you were taking your anger at others, or at a situation, out on me, for me to feel comfortable with this scenario.”

Dean’s face fell. “Oh, Cas, I’m sorry, Angel. No, of course, you’re right. It was a bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea to role play, Dean. Just...just not with  _ me _ . Not yet.” 

“Well, how about this? Just write down ‘role play,’ and we’ll speak with Mia about ideas for who should take the role of Sam during the session next Tuesday.”

Cas nodded, and wrote it down.

“Cas. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….”

“No, Dean, I know you didn’t. It’s okay.” Cas assured him, but Dean could read in Cas’ eyes that he was still troubled.

“Okay, Dean, moving on. What do you want to accomplish next year?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh.  
> Gabe's gotta up his game a good bit to be able to keep up with Sam! ;)  
> Cas' still got some insecurities that need working on, too. It's not just Dean who had issues. Dean's made progress, but what about Cas? Maybe Cas should have a word with Mia on Tuesday. Hmm.
> 
> Art! 
> 
> Please comment! :)
> 
> PS - Chapter 219 will follow in literally just a couple of minutes' time - make sure you read both! ;D I actually wrote 219 first, then realized I needed to fill in what happened on Friday DAYTIME, as 219 takes place that evening. Oops! ;)


	219. Correspondence Received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna has a jam-packed couple of days and arrives home, exhausted, to find a piece of mail she wasn't expecting. Curiously, so does Alex....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: chapter 218 was posted just a few moments before this, so make sure you read that first! ;)

Donna was a little tired by the time she got home on Friday. It had been a long week, particularly Thursday, when she’d been to court, and although it hadn’t felt to her like much happened, her attorney had described the hearing as “explosive.” Apparently, getting Judge Green so personally pissed off at someone that he commented on it, much less filed a complaint about them or ordered them to pay court costs, was rare. 

After the hearing, she and Attorney Weidermeyer had gone to a celebratory lunch. Then the attorney had to take off for another hearing, so Donna had decided to go for a drive. She’d meandered around in the countryside in her truck for awhile, finally ending up at her cabin. She’d checked up on it, and a few things needed restocking (coffee, in particular), but all in all, Cas and Dean had left it in better shape than they’d found it, and the paint job was lovely. It felt safe, too; good to know there was additional warding up under all the new paint.

She’d gone into the station briefly, even though she had the day off, just to pick up her mail and briefly speak with Sue (who handled most HR tasks, in addition to dispatch) about giving everyone a bonus because everybody had been showing up for work early and staying late since the clocks stopped working. No one had been slacking, and she was proud of them. She told Sue the bonus was coming from her, personally, so as not to lower the department’s funds, and she wrote a check on the spot.

Then she’d decided she was a little peckish, so she’d stopped off at Giovanni’s for some pasta. Then Giovanni, who was a friend, had talked her into “just a small helping” of tiramisu. She hadn’t been able to resist it.

She’d wished she had, when she started vomiting a couple of hours later. She’d been up all night Thursday night, and had needed to be at the station early on Friday. And of course, today had been a jam-packed day, start to finish, including a call to an extremely apologetic Giovanni, who had apparently been getting several calls, had already investigated, and had fired a sous chef.

So, when she got home, she was a little tired, and starting to feel just a little sleepy, like if she went to bed now, she’d fall asleep easily. But she knew if she did, she’d wake at around 2:00 and not be able to fall back to sleep, and then she’d have a hard time at work tomorrow, so she was determined to stay up until at least after the 10:00 news.

She pulled the mail out of the box and barely glanced at it, setting it on the counter, along with her purse, while she removed her coat and boots. She left it on the counter while she went to change into some comfier clothing, sweats and thick socks, and then picked it up again on her way through the kitchen to the living room. She plopped down on the couch and turned on the television. She clicked through about a dozen channels before settling on a new show on Hallmark Movies & Mysteries, called “Christmas Under the Stars.” She knew the Hallmark channels’ shows were a little sappy, but they were sweet, and when she was tired, they didn’t require much from her to keep track of the plot.

During one of the commercials, she started flipping through the envelopes from today’s mail. Most were easily pegged as either ads or bills, but there was one envelope without a return address that seemed a bit odd. She thought she recognized the handwriting, but couldn’t quite place it. She ripped it open, and pulled out a page of notebook paper with a letter from… Dean?

There was a post-it note attached to it, which she read first. 

_D- Heya, Sunshine! As part of my therapy, I’ve been writing letters to important people in my life. My therapist said I should send some of them, the ones to the people who matter most and who most deserve an apology or explanations. You’re in that bunch, sweetie. It’s a little outdated now, but I wanted you to see it anyway. Call me with questions. Love you, Dean._

She carefully removed the post-it from the notebook page, and started to read.

_Dear Donna,_

_The last time I saw you, I came down on you, kind of hard. I know that I already apologized, and I know that you’re perfectly willing to accept me, and to love me as a friend and family member, just as the person that I have been. I love that about you, Donna, that you are so open, and giving, and willing to love._

_The problem, though, is that_ **_I’m not willing to be that person any more_ ** _._

“Oh, Dean,” she whispered. She continued to read through the rest of the letter, and had to gently wipe her eyes on her sleeves when she’d finished.

***

Alex was exhausted when she got home on Friday evening. She picked up the mail, tossed it on the coffee table as she walked past, and slunk upstairs to shower and change into pjs. She debated just going straight to sleep, but her stomach growled, and that was that; back downstairs she went. Looking in the refrigerator, there really wasn’t much that she wanted, although there was plenty of food. If she were to eat something they had, she’d have to cook, and she just didn’t feel up to it.

“Amy? Pizza or chinese food for dinner?”

Amy came into the kitchen. “Tired, Alex?” she asked, sympathetically.

“Yeah. It was a really long day, at the end of a really long week. Look, everything in the fridge is still _good_ , but it’s all just a bunch of ingredients, there’s nothing ready to go, and I’m just too done in to cook. So, our options for delivery that will get here sometime before I fall over are either pizza, or chinese. So, what’s your preference?”

“Chinese is fine, thank you, Alex. I know how much you like chinese.”

“Okay, I’m gonna call it in. Anything in particular that you like?”

“I like the jumbo fried shrimp, and sweet and sour chicken, and BBQ ribs, and fried rice.”

“Okay, I like all of those too, so I’ll get enough to share and we’ll have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

“Yummy!” Amy grinned.

Alex called in the order and went out to the couch to wait for the delivery. Amy went back to reading her book, as usual. Alex watched her for a minute, fondly. Then she decided to look and see if any of the mail was actually for her, or if, as usual, it was mostly for Jody. To her surprise, there was, in fact, an envelope for her, with no return address. Curious, she tore it open, to find a page of notebook paper with a post-it note attached.

She read the note first.

_Hey, Alex, as part of my therapy, I’ve been writing letters to important people in my life. My therapist said I should send some of them, the ones to the people who matter most and who most deserve an apology or explanations. You’re in that bunch. It’s been a couple weeks since I wrote this, but I think it’s all still true, and I wanted you to see it. Call me with questions. Love you, Dean._

She removed the post-it, and started to read.

_Dear Alex,_

_I’ve never been as close to you as I’ve been to Claire. That’s fine; it’s not a competition. Perhaps it’s because you’ve always seemed so… self-contained…._

_I hope you know how many people care about you, now._ **_I hope you know that I am one of them_ ** _…._

 _I know that you don’t need me to be, and don’t need me to say that I am. But I need to say it, for me:_ **_I am so proud of you_ ** _._

_I love you._

She was a little surprised by how effusive the letter was; Dean was rarely so openly emotional. 

_Maybe I should call him. I never do. He’s right, I’m too self-contained, and it’s not like I’m not grateful to him and Sam. Wish I knew for sure what time it was; how do I know if it’s too late to call?_

She glanced out the window, and realized it wasn’t dark out yet. 

_Oh. Guess that’s a pretty good indicator._

She chuckled, and pulled out her cell phone, dialing Dean.

“Hey, Alex, what’s up?” Dean answered.

“Got your letter, D. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Alex, not for the letter, not for anything, ever. You’re family.”

“Are you okay, D? This letter… well, it kind of sounds like you, yet… not.”

“It was a little sentimental, I guess. I’m just happy, Alex. For the first time in a long time - maybe ever. And I’ve had a lot of feelings inside of me that I kept buried for too long, and didn’t tell the people that I love how I felt about them, and I realized I needed to stop doing that, and just tell you all. So, I’m trying to do that, now.”

“Well, love you back. Oh, gotta go, the food’s here. Bye!”

Dean chuckled out a “bye!” as she hung up and went to the door to pay.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love Donna. :)
> 
> and Alex - she picked up a phone! To check on Dean! 
> 
> No art, sorry. I didn't have anything new drawn of either Donna or Alex, and nothing drawn that fit the chapter. 
> 
> Please comment! ;D


	220. The Drive From Pierre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire, Jody, and Deanna continue their trip down to the Bunker. On the way, they run into a little weather, so Jody makes a call to a friend.

Jody and Donna woke about 8:00, and were surprised to find Deanna sitting on the couch, fully awake, fully dressed, reading a different book than she had been the day before. They took turns showering and got dressed and ready to go, then packed up. Then they all made sure to use the bathroom again before getting on the road, and left the room. Claire and Deanna went to the car while Jody checked them out. Claire got Deanna into the carseat in the back of the car, then put the bags in the trunk. Just as she shut the trunk’s lid, Jody walked out, and they got in the front seat. All told, they were in the car by about 9:00 (that was Claire’s guess, from the position of the sun, anyway; man, she was sick of the clocks not working!).

“Ready for some breakfast, Deanna?” Claire asked.

“Yes, please. I’m rather hungry,” Deanna replied.

Jody glanced at Claire, but then started the car and drove down the street to the McDonald’s. “We’re just gonna go through the drive-thru, here. We’re gonna stop for gas in a minute, and I’ll get some snacks, so think about what you might want. We likely won’t stop again until lunch, probably in Bassett, which is in Nebraska. That’s about halfway, so we’ll make it to your daddy’s place today. It’d be about a six- and-a-half hour drive if we went straight through without stopping anywhere, but we’ll have to stop for lunch and gas, and probably at least one, if not two, more stops for the bathroom, so it’ll likely be more like eight hours before we get there. Now, if we have any problems along the way, or if we all just decide we’re too tired to continue at some point, we can stop for the night a little early, and get you there in the morning, but I think we’d all like to be at our destination sooner, rather than later. Am I right?” Jody asked. 

Claire and Deanna nodded. 

“Once we’re on the road and we’ve finished eating, could you both tell me more about my daddy, please?” Deanna asked. “Mommy told me a few things, but she didn’t really know him very long, so she couldn’t tell me very much.”

“Sure, sweetie,” Claire told her. “But for right now, let’s think about what you want for breakfast.”

The car pulled up to the drive-thru order speaker. “Can I take your order?” asked the bored teenager in the drive-thru window.

Jody ordered for herself, then Claire, then Deanna, as they told her what they wanted. 

“Okay. That’ll be $27.40 at the first window. Thank you. Please drive forward.”

Claire pulled the cash out of her wallet and held it until Jody had pulled up to the first window and held out her hand for it. Then Jody handed the cash to the cashier, got the change, and returned it to Claire. Then she pulled forward to the second window, waited a bit, got their food handed out to her, and handed it to Claire to distribute, as she pulled away from the restaurant and got them back on the road, looking for a gas station. “Just hold mine for me, Claire. I’ll eat after I get the gas and snacks.”

“You got it, Jodes.”

They pulled up to a pump, and Jody got out, and filled the tank, paying with her debit card at the pump. Then she went inside to get the snacks, picking out some candy, some chips, some gum, and a couple of pieces of fresh fruit, along with a few bottles of water, and a six-pack of Mountain Dew for herself and Claire. She paid, and walked back out to the car, handing the snack bags to Claire for later distribution. She got in, shut the door, turned the key, and got them back on the road. Claire handed her the sandwich she’d ordered, and put her coffee in the front cup holder in the center console for her. Claire’s coffee was behind it. Deanna had a small orange juice to drink, and she had already finished it while they were getting gas, so she handed the empty cup to Claire to put in the bag they were using for trash.

They ate as they went, and soon, they were chatting, telling Deanna about what they knew of Dean, Sam, and Cas from their personal experiences with them, and about the little they knew of Gabriel, whom Jody had yet to meet, and Claire had only met just the one time, when she’d most recently been to the Bunker. 

That topic exhausted, Deanna returned to her reading - she was on a third book, now - Claire picked out a snack for herself, and Jody switched the radio on to a top-40 station. The song ended, and the announcer came on with a weather update. 

“It’s bright and sunny, now, but don’t be fooled, folks, we’re in for a doozy of a storm today. If you’re out in the field, you’re gonna wanna be done by around 2:00 at the latest, because the skies are gonna open up and dump on us, and there’s a chance of high winds, hail, and possibly some twister action. There’s a tornado watch in effect until 8:00 pm for all of southern South Dakota, and the entire state of Nebraska, so, buckle up, folks, and keep an eye out. We’ll get back to the music, after these messages.” A commercial came on, and Jody switched it off. She got her cell phone out, and dialed Dean.

“Hey. We’re on the road. It’s clear skies now, but the radio just announced there’s some heavy rain, high winds, hail, and maybe worse coming up later this afternoon, including the possibility of twisters…. Yeah…. Yeah, that’s why I called…. Right. I know, Dean…. Yeah. I’d like to be there, too, but I’m not gonna take foolish chances. If it starts looking too bad, we’ll start looking for a place to stop for the night. Just wanted to let you know…. Okay…. Okay…. Yeah, you too, love to Sam and Cas.” Jody ended the call. “Okay, so, you heard what I said to Dean. He agrees, we should try to get through, but only if the weather stays clear enough to be safe. If it gets too bad, we should stop for the night. He’d like to have us there, but he wants us all to be safe. So, that’s the plan. This afternoon, if the skies start getting dark, you girls keep your eyes peeled for signs of tornado weather. Deanna, do you know what to watch for?”

“No, Jody, I don’t, but I’d like to help. What are the signs?”

“If the sky starts to turn odd colors, like bright pink or any shade of green, especially up in the clouds, before sunset. If you see anything in the clouds moving in a swirly kind of direction, like it’s going to form a funnel cloud, even if it’s real far off in the distance. Also, listen for something that sounds like a freight train, where there are no tracks. High winds that suddenly die down so that everything is very still and quiet. Fast-moving clouds that look odd, or look like they have debris in them, especially if they’re low to the ground. Can you remember all that?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll watch for that.” Deanna smiled.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Claire told her. “We’ll both watch for it, too. Don’t worry until the sky gets dark, though. It won’t be for a few hours, so go ahead and read in the meantime.”

Deanna just nodded and went back to her book.

Jody switched the radio back on, and sang along under her breath with the song that was on, _Lover_ by Taylor Swift. “ _Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? / With every guitar string scar on my hand / I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover / My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue / All's well that ends well to end up with you / Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover / And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me / And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover_ ….”

Claire joined in on the final chorus, at which point, Jody gave up pretending she wasn’t singing, and just sang out loud. _“Can I go where you go? / Can we always be this close forever and ever? / And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) / You're my, my, my, my / Oh, you're my, my, my, my / Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover…_.”

When the song ended, Deanna giggled, but when Claire looked in the backseat, she was just reading, her expression solemn.

They stopped for lunch around noon at a small cafe in Taylor, Nebraska. They made sure to use the bathroom before they left, as places to stop seemed rather few and far between on the route they’d chosen. They were back on the road before 1:00. Skies were still clear and blue, not a cloud in the sky - but the temperature had dropped about five degrees while they were in the restaurant, and that could signal an on-coming storm. Claire was driving, now.

“So, over lunch, I was looking at our options on Google maps. Looks like the next good place to stop is Minden, Nebraska; that’s about two hours. There might be some places to stop and shelter if needed, before Minden, but nowhere we could stay the night,” Claire told Jody. “And actually, the only place in Minden is a campground. There’s no motels. Next place to actually get a _room_ is a B&B in Red Cloud, Nebraska, but from there, it’s only about twenty minutes more to Lebanon. Crazy to stop there with the Bunker so close, at that point.”

“Yeah. Sounds like we should plan to just power through. If we get to a really bad patch and have to pull over, though…” Jody was worried.

“We could have Cas do what he did with me, last time. Gabe could come, too.” Claire suggested.

Jody mouthed, “Fly?” at her.

Claire nodded. “If it got really bad. I’m just saying, Jodes, it’s an option.”

Jody made a face, her eyes a little wide, her brow quirked, and her lips pursed, but then she nodded. “Last resort?”

Claire nodded again. “Last resort. It’s only three more hours on the road, Jody. We can do this.”

“I have an idea. We’re in Loup County; sheriff’s a friend, we met at a retreat a year or so ago.” Jody looked in her contacts list, found her friend’s number, and hit the button to dial.

“Hey, Lonnie, Sheriff Jody Mills from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, here. How are ya?... Yeah, it’s been awhile, I know…. Yes, still have the two girls, and in fact, I added another to my menagerie, Amy, she’s four…. Yup, also a foster, parents killed in a car crash awhile back…. Awww, really? Twins? That’s great, Lonnie, you tell SueAnn I said ‘hey’, yeah? Look, Lonnie, here’s my sitch. I’m on the road, just left Taylor, Nebraska, that’s what made me think of you, in fact. And I’m with one of my girls, Claire, the middle one, and we’re transporting another child, who I’m taking to live with her father for the first time, down in Lebanon…. Yeah, we’ve been on the road a couple days, coming from Beulah, North Dakota, and we’re sure getting tired. Now, it’s only three hours, about, to Lebanon from here, right? If we stay on Highway 183?... Oh? Really? Bad weather? What’s the sitch?... Well, that’s not good. Look, I don’t wanna impose, you’ll have your hands full with weather like that, I’m sure; but is there a good place to stop and get a room, between here and Lebanon, if we get into trouble with the weather and need to pull off?... No? Nothing, huh?... Well, let me ask you this, Lonnie; can you do me a solid?...Yeah, that’s what I’ve got in mind… Turn three hours into maybe a little less…. Oh, you’re a doll, Lonnie. You’ll let everyone know?... Great. Okay, Claire’s driving, that gonna be a problem?... You’re the best, Lonnie…. Okay, we’re in a Ford Taurus, navy blue, it’s my own, not police issue, South Dakota plates, 1SHERIF…. Ha! The ‘1’ is actually for Sioux Falls, so…. Yeah, Lonnie. Hey, call me, you’re ever up my neck of the woods, hear? Appreciate it. Bye, now.” Jody ended the call.

“What did you just do?” Claire asked.

“You are good to speed the whole rest of the way. Lonnie’s calling ahead for us, at least this side of the Nebraska-Kansas line, we won’t be stopped. Once we cross into Kansas, we’ll have to slow it down, but it’s only, what, another fifteen, twenty minutes to Lebanon from the state line? Normally, speed limit on state highways in Nebraska that aren’t part of the interstate system is sixty mph, you are cleared to go eighty, get us there that much faster, cuts about forty-five minutes off this leg of the trip.” Jody took a swig of her Mountain Dew, and grinned.

Claire grinned back. She pushed the gas pedal down and sped up...just as they passed a police cruiser. She looked nervously in the mirror, but, as promised, nothing happened. The cop didn’t speed up, didn’t put the lights on, didn’t fire up the siren.

“See?” Jody grinned. “Let’s get there today.”

‘Yes, ma’am!” Claire really put the pedal to the metal, and they were off. 

Within about twenty minutes, Jody was pointing out through the windshield at some dark clouds off to the southwest, still far off and on the horizon, but they appeared to be fast-moving, and low to the ground. Claire was careful not to exceed 80 mph, but she was also careful not to go slower, either.

The sky grew darker, but the nasty-looking clouds were still to the west of them, and looked like they were heading north, not northeast. Claire just kept driving. Jody and Deanna watched and listened for signs of a twister, but there was nothing, yet. Jody switched on the radio at one point, but they were in the middle of nowhere, really, and there were no good clear stations, so she just switched it right back off.

They reached Red Cloud within two hours and ten minutes; that left about twenty minutes to Lebanon. The skies were getting dark, but the really dangerous looking clouds were still in the distance.

Jody dialed Dean. “Hey, D, we just passed Red Cloud, Nebraska, about to cross the state line. It’s about twenty minutes to downtown Lebanon from here, then five more to the Bunker, so watch for us in about half an hour. Could you have someone up by the door, ready to open it when we get there? The sky’s about to open up, and I’d rather not get any wetter’n I need to, just trying to get in the door…. Oh, the garage? Yeah, that’s a thought. Yeah, I’ll tell Claire, she’s driving…. All right, see you in a few, hon. Bye.” She ended the call. “Dean says to go around the hill to the right, there’s an unpaved gravel road, it leads to a garage door, which will be on your left, he’ll have it open for us, and he’ll meet us inside.”

“I didn’t even know that place _had_ a garage, but, come to think of it, it must, because I’ve never seen the Impala parked out front in the lot. Okay, garage it is,” Claire said, eyes on the road. They crossed the state line, and Claire slowed to 60 mph. Shortly thereafter, they were driving through the downtown area of Lebanon, and the skies opened up. Claire slowed to 25 mph to go through town, then back up to 40 once they were out of the town limits. She watched for the turn that went to the Bunker’s private road, hoping she’d remember the area well enough to recognize it in the rain.. 

“You sure you know how to find it, Claire?” Jody asked. “I can call Dean again.”

“No, I got it, Jodes. There are the railroad tracks; you go over those, pass the next street, which is ingeniously named Railroad Avenue, and the next place you can turn left, you do. And there’s the turn.” Claire turned left. “And now, we’re looking for a road off to the left, which we’ll pass, then we’ll see water off to the left, and shortly after that, there’s a private paved road with a mailbox at the end of it on the left, we turn there. And there it is.” Claire turned left again. “This is pretty short, and then we turn right, here, and then we turn right again on the gravel road, here, and we watch for the garage door on the left, set into the hillside, and there it is, and it’s open, and, we’re here!” Claire pulled into the garage, and parked in the spot that Dean was pointing her to. She parked, and turned off the key, then let out a breath. 

Deanna whispered, “Claire? I need to use the bathroom. Can we take care of that before I meet my daddy?”

“Well, honey, that man standing right there? That _is_ your daddy. So, I think you’re gonna have to at least say hello quick, but then we’ll get you inside and to a bathroom, okay?”

“Okay. But can you ask him quick not to hug me yet? I don’t want to have an accident.”

“Sure thing, sweetie. I’ll handle it, just give me a sec.”

Claire climbed out of the car, and motioned to Dean. He came over and she whispered something in his ear; he nodded.

Then, as Jody was pulling their things out of the trunk, Claire opened the back door, got Claire out of the car seat, and helped her out of the car.

“Hello, Deanna. I’m Dean. I-I’m your father.”

“Hello, Dean. It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

Then Dean nodded to Claire, and Claire took Deanna’s hand, and led her from the room, into the Bunker, in search of a bathroom.

Dean moved to the trunk to help Jody with the bags.

“You’re doing fine, Slugger,” she told him. “Deep breaths.”

He huffed out a laugh, and gave her a hug. “Missed you.”

“You too. C’mon, let’s get inside. Roust Sam and Cas, get them to help with all this stuff.”

Dean laughed, and followed Jody into the Bunker, hitting the switch on the wall that closed the garage door. They left the trunk open, figuring they’d be right back anyway. 

So, no one noticed the twin wisps of smoke that bobbed just inside the garage door. The door to the garage that was entirely unwarded against demons.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they made it to the Bunker, finally, and without running into a twister!  
> Hank and Gray make an appearance right at the end, there. Eep!
> 
> No art - this was again running long - but I promise some in the next chapter, which is already almost half written, I think, maybe a little more. 
> 
> To clarify, Alex's phone call to Dean in the prior chapter takes place after the events in this chapter, but the events in this chapter spanned the entire day, so the timeline got a little fractured, sorry. In the next chapter, there's a call from Donna to Dean, and that takes place *during* the events in this chapter, prior to the girls' arrival at the Bunker. Hope that's clear. ;D
> 
> Please comment!
> 
> Also, there is a new story in this series, #4, called Dean in Hell. It is as advertised. It is not a nice fun story, it's Dean being tortured, all the things he's mentioned to Cas and Mia so far, plus, in more detail. Three chapters posted so far, please read and comment. You don't need to see the end of this story to read that one, because that one's a prequel!
> 
> Also also, there's a chapter update to the third story in this series, Sam's Therapy, with his daily call for Thursday; Friday's call will follow shortly, either tonight or tomorrow at some point after my morning doctor appointment, not sure yet how much more I've got in me at this point tonight. Please follow along with that story as it goes, because those call chapters will NOT be posted within THIS story, ONLY in that one. Please comment there, as well!
> 
> Enjoy! :D


	221. Communication Is Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna calls Dean in response to reading his letter, and he tells her about Deanna. Lucifer asks Shann to explain football. Cas and Sam give Gabe a hard time about bike riding and not healing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEADS UP: I just posted Ch. 220 a few moments ago, so make sure you read that FIRST, then come back to this chapter. Don't miss anything!
> 
> Again, for clarity, Donna's call to Dean occurs shortly before Jody, Claire, and Deanna arrive, but after Dean tells Jody he'll open up the garage for them in that call in the prior chapter. The timeline got a teensy bit fractured, sorry about that. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean’s cell phone rang again, shortly after he’d ended his call with Alex. “Hey, Donna.”

“Oh, Dean.” He could hear her sniffling.

“Donna, are you okay, sunshine? What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m fine. It’s just this… letter…. You don’t owe me any explanations, Dean Winchester. I already knew your life was a poop storm, I’ve known that for years. If you took a few shortcuts to handle what life dished out to ya, I have no issue with that. At least you managed to get by, and if I have it right, between things you and Sam have said, and things I’ve heard from Jody and the girls, you and Sam have literally saved the world a few times, so you getting by is pretty darned important! Of course, I’d rather you were healthy than not; whole, rather than half. So, I’m glad you’re off the sauce, and I’m glad you’re with Cas, who seemed pretty darn supportive when the two of you were here gettin’ the keys to the cabin - which, by the way, looks fantastic, thank you - and I’m glad you’re gettin’ therapy, and I’m happy you’re reachin’ out. Now, if you think I  _ need _ a specific piece of background info, I’m happy to listen. But if you think I’m going to ever question a decision you made, well, I don’t engage in Monday-mornin’ quarterbacking, Dean, so that’s just not gonna happen, y’hear? What you did, worked, and if it didn’t, you fixed it, and we’re all still here, and that’s what matters. Now, have you and Cas picked a date yet?”

Dean was a little nonplussed at the avalanche of words that Donna had just dropped on him, but he managed to squeak out, “Um… no, ma’am.”

“Well, what in tarnation are the two of you waiting for? Do I need to come down there and plan this wedding for you?”

“Well, actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d love the help,” Dean said, weakly.

“Fine. I have two weeks’ vacation time coming, and I still have a few personal days available for this year, and then I get a whole new bank of personal time startin’ January first, so I have plenty of time. When d’you want me? Never mind, just give me a couple of days to make arrangements, and I can probably be there on Monday, how’s that?”

“Um… okay. Oh, I have news, too, by the way, Donna.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

_ Donna _

“I just found out I have a daughter, Donna. She’s four, her name is Deanna Rose, her mother died of cancer about a week and a half ago, her aunt - her only other living kin on her mom’s side - has six kids and can’t keep her, so she’s coming here. Jody and Claire went and picked her up, and they should have her here soon. Next few minutes, in fact.” Dean got up and started heading for the garage, to open the door for them.

“Ohhh. Oh, Dean. I can tell by your voice that you’re a little overwhelmed, and a lot happy.”

“Yeah, that’s about right. Cas has been great about it, just stepped right up. No hesitation. Sammy’s all geared up to be ‘Uncle Sam’... and I’m starting to look forward to hearing her call me ‘daddy.’ But there’s the whole, ‘what if I screw this up?’ thing running through my head. This is important, Donna, it’s a kid. One screw up when she’s little could wreck her  _ whole life _ \- and I’d be responsible for that. It’s different somehow when it’s just one person, y’know, D? When it’s the fate of the world at stake, it’s larger than life, you can’t miss the big picture because that’s all there is. But this? You might not even realize you made a mistake until years later when the kid turns around and announces they hate you because of something you did years before. To be honest, Donna, I don’t have the first clue about how to be a parent. My mom died when I was four, and Dad wasn’t exactly someone to emulate. I had to raise Sam, but….”

“You just stop right there, Dean. That’s it, exactly. You had to raise Sam. You did that, Dean. You raised Sam, and he’s one of the best men I know, and the other one’s you. You don’t know how to parent, please.  _ Tcha _ . Nonsense. You’ve been a parent practically your whole life, Dean. Just settle down, now, relax, breathe, and stop listening to that little voice in your head. It’s not just on you. You’ve got a family, Dean, and we’ll all help out as much as we can, whenever we can, however we can. Whatever you need, y’hear?”

“I hear, Sheriff.”

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m layin’ down the law. You need it, now and then,” Donna teased.

“Yes, yes, I do.” Dean grinned.

“All righty then, Dean, I will see you on Monday; if something comes up and there’s a delay, I’ll call. Love ya.”

“Love you, too, Sunshine.”

Donna ended the call, and Dean stared at the phone for a second, then opened the garage door, and waited for his daughters to arrive.

***

Shann sat up on his couch and stretched. 

_ “This game. It’s called ‘football’, correct? I do not understand it. Can you explain it to me, please?” _ Lucifer asked.

“Oh, sure, hold on, let me turn down the sound. Okay, so,....”

_ “You needn’t actually speak, you know,”  _ Lucifer told him, sounding vaguely amused.  _ “I can hear your thoughts, if they are directed at me, and yes, I can tell when they are and when they’re not. Just think it. You can include visual images that way, from your memories. It will give me a better understanding. To be honest, I could just sort through your memories and find out what I want to know, but I did promise to let you ‘drive’ at all times. I do not wish to overstep.” _

_ “Oh. Well, okay, you can hear this all right? And … thank you.” _

_ “Yes, I can hear you, and you are welcome. So. Football?” _

_ “Right.” _

***

Cas knocked on the door of the bedroom shared by Sam and Gabe.

“Come in,” Sam called.

Cas opened the door. “I heard a car drive into the garage a moment ago. I believe they have arrived.”

Sam and Gabe grinned. Gabe got up from the bed, where he’d been reading a book, and winced as his legs cramped again. Cas rolled his eyes, then put his fingers to Gabe’s forehead. 

“Why don’t you heal yourself, Gabriel?”

“Thanks, Cas. I told him the same thing, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” Sam said quietly.

“That’s not true. Cas, Sam told me that I can’t use my wings to keep up with him when we run, so I was doing my best, but he went a crazy forty miles this morning, while the weather was still nice. I made it to mile thirty-three before I had to stop. I assume that he wants me to feel the pain, to make the muscles stretch and become accustomed to the work, so I can make it the whole way with him, and they won’t do that if you heal them and return them to their prior shape.”

“I didn’t return them to their prior shape, Gabe. I left the added flexibility and stretch you gained this morning. I just removed the pain and the extra blood flooding the muscle, bruising it. You’ll feel better, both now, and next time you go out with Sam to run.”

“Well, it won’t matter, because from now on, Gabe here is going to be riding a bike,” Sam told Cas.

Cas’ face lit up. “I would pay money to see that.”

Gabe blushed hotly and looked away.

“Gabe? Do you not know  _ how _ to ride a bike? You said it would be fine!” Sam poked his boyfriend.

“And it will. How hard can it possibly be?” Gabe shrugged. “Pfft. No worries.”

“Sam, please, let me know when you’re doing this.” Cas grinned.

Sam grinned back. “No problem, Cas.”

They left the room to go meet the new arrivals, and Gabe followed more slowly, whining. “Aw, c’mon, guys!”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this every time, but, you just gotta love Donna. :) And now she's coming down to help plan the wedding and take care of Deanna! Yay! More Donna!
> 
> Lucy's trying to be good, being respectful of boundaries and borders, keeping his promises. And while he has learned about football from Sam and Nick, he wants to know what Shann knows and thinks about the game, especially since Shann is actually watching it with him there, which Sam and Nick never really had a chance to do with Lucifer using them as his vessel.
> 
> Poor Gabe. Can't wait to see him trying to learn to ride a bike. ;)
> 
> Art! Donna just needed a full-on yellow background, I couldn't help it, she wouldn't let me draw her any other way. ;)
> 
> Please comment, guys! Love ya!


	222. BONUS - ART ONLY CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter - art regarding Gabriel's attempts to learn to ride a bicycle. Let's just say, he had better luck with the motorized version. ;)

1)

_Gabe Fall Down, Go Boom_

2)

_Gabe on the mini-scooter_


	223. Daddy and Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna meets Sam, Gabe, and Cas. The three of them then help Jody and Claire with the rest of the bags, while Dean carries Deanna into, and on a small tour of, the Bunker. Dean and Deanna chat in the hallways.

Dean and Jody got Deanna’s bags to the door of her room, which was closed for dramatic effect, and left them in the hall. Then they put Jody and Claire’s bags in guest rooms, one for each of them. They met up with Cas, Sam, and could hear Gabe coming down the hall behind the other two, and they all went back down toward the garage.

When they arrived in the garage, Deanna was chatting animatedly with Claire, who was pulling additional bags out of the trunk. Cas glanced at Dean, and caught the look of soft wonder that crossed Dean’s face at this second sighting of his daughter. Cas grinned.

Deanna must have heard something behind her, because she turned. Seeing the group, she stood quietly, looking back at them as the men stared at her. Claire looked up, saw the stare-off in progress, and rolled her eyes. She tossed her hair and huffed out a sigh. 

“So, duh, this is Deanna. Deanna, you already met your daddy. The really tall one is your Uncle Sam, the really short one is Gabriel, and the one left over is Castiel. Go say hi, sweetie.”

Deanna looked up at Claire over her shoulder, as if to say, “do I have to?” But then she looked back at the men, squared her shoulders, nodded once, and marched over to Sam.

“Hi, Sam. I’m your niece, Deanna.”

Sam knelt down to give her a very gentle hug. “Hey, Deanna. It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m so sorry to hear that your mommy died recently, but I’m very glad you’re here, now.”

Deanna relaxed into Sam’s embrace, and hugged him back, her face buried in his shoulder. He patted her shoulder comfortingly. When she seemed ready to pull back, he let her go easily, and smiled softly at her.

Deanna stepped back, smiled at Sam, then turned to Castiel, and seemed to tense up a little again. She took a step closer to him, looked up at him, and said, “I understand you’re marrying my daddy. I’d like to get to know you better, as it appears you’ll be my stepfather. Claire said you’re an angel. What choir are you?”

Cas was a little startled by the question, but responded, “Um, I’m a Seraph.”

“He’s actually in charge of all of Heaven, but he’s very modest,” Gabe put in.

Deanna nodded. “That’s what the angels would say, when they mentioned him.”

Cas went down on one knee to be better able to speak with her. “You can hear the angels?”

“Not now. They stopped singing right after my mommy died. I heard a few of them talking about her death, and then soon thereafter, I couldn’t hear them anymore.”

Gabe looked at Cas. “Inias cut off Angel Radio. Timing’s right.”

Cas nodded at him, then looked back at Deanna. “I hear you like to read. We put together a nice big bookcase for your room, and your Uncle Sam put a stack of his own books on it for you.”

Deanna turned to Sam. “Did you? That was generous. Thank you, Uncle Sam.”

Sam blushed a little, but smiled at her. “Of course.”

Deanna turned to Gabriel, next. “And I know who you are.”

“You do?” Gabriel asked, also going down on one knee. 

Deanna nodded. “You’re an Archangel, Gabriel, the Messenger of God, last seen in the Bible telling the Virgin Mary that she’d been chosen to bear the Son of God.”

Gabriel nodded. “That’s true. I did visit Mary. And that is the last time that I’m mentioned in the Bible.” He thought it probably better not to mention the fact that he had not actually been sent by God on that particular mission.

“Deanna,” Dean said. “We have your room organized for you, if you’d like to look at it. If you don’t like the way it’s decorated, we can change it, but we put something together for you that’s a little special.”

“I am rather tired. I’d like to see my room, please. May I take a nap before supper?” Deanna asked Dean, holding up her arms in the universal kid signal for “I want to be picked up and carried,” which Dean fortunately remembered from when Sam was little. He bent down, and hoisted her up into his arms.

“Of course you may.” Dean told Deanna. He turned to the others. “Guys, why don’t you help Claire and Jody get the rest of the stuff from the trunk. I’ll give Deanna a little bit of a tour, and we’ll meet you at the door to her room for the big reveal in about five minutes.”

Sam, Cas, and Gabe nodded, and Jody walked with them over to the car to help Claire. Dean headed into the Bunker, carrying Deanna -  _ his daughter!  _ \- in his arms.

_ Right where she ought to be! _

“May I call you ‘daddy,’ Dean?” she asked him as they crossed the threshold into the hallway.

“I wish you would, sweetheart.” He smiled as he carried her down the hall.

_ Daddy Dean and Daughter Deanna  _

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Did you love my mommy?”

Dean sighed. “To be honest, I don’t actually remember your mommy. I was going through a really bad time when I met her, and I didn’t know her very long.”

“Would it help you remember to see a picture of her?”

“It might. I don’t know. I’d be happy to look at one and see.”

Deanna nodded. “Okay. When we get my things unpacked, I have a picture of mommy in a frame that I can show you.”

“Did your mommy tell you about me?” Dean asked.

Deanna nodded again. “Some. She said she didn’t know much about you, and she said, too, that you didn’t know each other very long - just a couple of weeks, really. But she said that you were sweet, and attentive, and you fought for her honor, whatever that means. And she didn’t say, but I could tell that she thought you were good-looking.”

“Oh? Really? How could you tell?” Dean chuckled a little.

“Her eyes would get soft and her voice would get all dreamy when I’d ask about you. She had a picture of you, and she’d take it out sometimes to show me, and she’d kind of stare at it when she didn’t realize I was looking, and she’d smile softly, like you were a good memory.”

“You’re very observant.”

Deanna nodded again. “I am. And Mommy always said that I’m a good judge of character, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Probably easier for me than some, since I can read minds.”

Dean blinked. “You can?”

“Mmhmm. I try not to, though. Mommy said it was rude for me to go rummaging around in people’s thoughts. But sometimes I can’t help but get a flash from someone, if they have a strong emotion, or they’re trying to lie. Mommy said that since I couldn’t help that, because they were projecting so strongly, that it was okay for me to use what I’d learned, but only ever for good.”

Dean grinned. “Your mommy sounds like she was very smart.”

“She was. Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I couldn’t fix Mommy.”

“What do you mean, Deanna? Fix her… how?”

“When she got the cancer. I didn’t do anything bad to give her the cancer, I swear I didn’t, but I tried really hard, but I just couldn’t fix it. Mommy said it was all right, that sometimes bad things just happen, even to good people, and it wasn’t my fault. I tried so hard to fix it, but nothing I tried worked! Am I a bad person?”

“Oh, baby, no. No, your Mommy was right, it wasn’t your fault, not her getting sick, that wasn’t anything to do with you, and you not being able to heal her, that’s not on you, either. Even Cas and Gabe can’t heal everyone of everything, and they’re very powerful angels. You’re just a little girl.” Dean hugged her tight and held her close.

“No, daddy. I’m not.”

“What do you mean, Deanna?”

“I’m not  _ just  _ a little girl. Even as a baby, I had… powers. I still do. Mommy said I could only ever use my powers for good, and I shouldn’t use them to get into mischief or be naughty. She didn’t know why I had the powers, but it was obvious that I did. She said that there was likely a name for what I am, but she wasn’t sure what it was. Once, when she was telling me about you, there was a thought that flashed through her mind - it was very quick, but it was very strong, and I heard it, clear as a bell. ‘I wonder if Dean would know what she is?’ So, do you, Daddy? Do you know what I am?”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yes, I do. It’s a little hard to explain, though. Remember that I said that during the time I was with your mommy, I was going through a bad time?”

Deanna nodded, listening.

“It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it eventually, I promise. But the short version is that I was briefly a demon. I was a demon when I met your mother, and when I drove away from her. I’m not one, now, and it’s hard to explain why I was, and how it is that I’m not any more. But I was one, then. And that makes you a half-demon, half-human child, and the word for that combination is ‘cambion.” That’s what you are, baby.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” Deanna was quiet a moment, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Can I trust you? I mean, really trust you? To really be my daddy? To not leave, and never hurt me, and to love me? Can I?” she asked.

Dean nodded. “Yes. I swear, you can trust me to do all of that, sweetheart. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And you can trust Sam and Cas and Gabe, too.”

Deanna nodded. “I had doubts about you, I admit. You’d been gone for the entirety of my life, see. Mommy didn’t know very much about you. What she told me, I liked, but….” Her voice trailed off.

“But?” Dean prompted.

“The last thing you said to her was awful! It wasn’t true, and it hurt her so badly, and it was just mean! It was insulting and rude, and I don’t like people who insult my mommy!” Deanna burst into tears.

“Okay, honey, okay, I’ve got you, I’m right here. Deanna, I don’t remember your mother, much less the last thing I said to her, but if I said something awful, again, remember, I was a demon, then. I said a lot of things to a lot of people, as a demon, that I would never say as a human. Whatever it was that I said, I’m sure that if you told me that I’d said it, I’d be horrified by it now.” Dean tucked Deanna in against his hip and kissed her forehead gently. “I’m sorry, baby. Let it out. You’ve been through a lot these past couple of weeks. You’re exhausted, I get it, It’s okay. You’re here, you’re safe, I’ve got you. Let it go. Shhhh. C’mon, baby girl, let’s show you your room, and you can decide if you hate it, and want to redecorate it from scratch, or if you love it and want to leave it as it is, or some combination thereof. And then you can take your nap, and then we’ll eat supper, and then we’ll go from there.”

Deanna hiccoughed a little. “Promise me you won’t lie to me, Daddy.”

“Never. I will never ever lie. I may not always tell you everything, honey; you’re very young and some things aren’t meant for the ears of small children, okay? But what I do tell you, I promise, will be truth. All right?”

Deanna nodded. “I promise not to lie to you, either. And I’ll try really hard to be good.”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, that’s good, baby.”

“Daddy? Should I restart the clocks, now?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww, please, here, have ALL the feels. Smoosh!
> 
> Art! ;)
> 
> Please comment!!!


	224. Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna gets to explore her new room. Sam, Cas, and Gabe go out to try to teach Gabe how to ride a bike.

“Daddy? Should I restart the clocks, now?”

Dean stopped dead in the hall, and slowly turned his head to look at his daughter’s face. He swallowed hard. “Y-yes, baby. Can I ask...why you stopped them?”

“Mommy was dying, and everyone kept telling me that visiting hours were over, I had to go home with Aunt Lilah. I didn’t want to leave. I knew it was a little naughty, but I thought, if the clocks weren’t working, if they just stopped, then they wouldn’t  _ know _ that visiting hours were over, and maybe I could stay with Mommy.” Deanna hiccoughed again, tears still slowly leaking from the corners of her eyes. 

“Oh, baby. Did it work, at least?” Much as the lack of working clocks had irritated and upset him - and everyone he knew - Dean had a great deal of sympathy for his daughter’s plight. 

“No,” Deanna grumped. “They still made me leave.”

Dean bit his lower lip to keep from smiling. “Well, can you go ahead and reset them, now, please, sweetheart?”

Deanna nodded, closed her eyes to concentrate for a split second, then opened them again. “It’s done.”

“Thank you, baby.” 

Dean stopped in front of the closed door to Deanna’s room, and set Deanna down on the floor. “This door here, this is your room.” 

He pointed to the next door down. “And that room there, that’s the room that Cas and I share, so if you need us in the night, that’s where we’ll be, right next door.”

“Okay. Are we waiting for the others? Or can I see my room, now?”

“Well, the others helped put everything together. I think they’d like to see your reaction.” Dean smiled down at her, and she grinned back at him.

“Okay. I can wait.”

Just then, the others turned the corner, laden with bags from the ladies’ shopping trip the day before. Everyone set down their respective burdens in the hall, and Dean nodded. 

“Okay. Ready, baby? Hope you like it.” He pushed the door open, and reached in to switch on just the twinkle lights. 

Deanna moved forward slowly, stepping cautiously into the room, looking around with eyes wide with wonder.

“Well, Deanna? Do you like it?” Dean asked.

Deanna turned and looked up at him, a smile blooming on her face. Her voice was hushed but joyous. “Oh, daddy! It’s all so  _ pretty _ !”

Five male sighs of relief issued simultaneously at Deanna’s pronouncement. Their efforts had not been in vain.

Jody and Claire stepped up to the door and craned their necks to peek in. 

Jody turned to Dean. “Oh, good job, daddy.” She punched his elbow lightly. Dean grinned back at her.

Deanna was examining the books on the shelf that had been donated by Sam. “Oh! Uncle Sam!”

He stepped into the room. “Yes?”

“Jules Verne! I’ve been wanting to read  _ Twenty Thousand Leagues Beneath the Sea _ , and here it is! Thank you!” Deanna breathed excitedly.

Sam grinned. “Yes, that’s a good one. Actually, all of those books are among my favorites.”

Deanna walked to him and tugged on his hand. He knelt, and she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Uncle Sam.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Sam hugged back, gently.

Deanna looked up at Dean. “Daddy? It’s a little dark in here for reading.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, and hit the second switch. A reading lamp that he’d attached to the wall over her bed (tulle carefully draped around it, so as not to be a fire hazard) switched on. He hit the third switch, and the overhead light came on, as well.

_ Deanna’s Room  _

Deanna nodded. “It’s much prettier with just the twinkle lights, but it’s good to know there are other options.”

Sam, Dean, and Jody had to bite the insides of their cheeks not to laugh. Claire rolled her eyes at them, and started carting bags in from the hallway. 

“C’mon guys, let’s get this stuff unpacked and put away.”

Deanna looked at Dean, and yawned. He came to her rescue.

“Um, actually, Deanna wanted to take a little nap before supper, so for now, let’s just put the bags inside the room to clear the hallway, keeping a path open to the door, and let’s let her lie down for a bit, hey?” Dean put action to words and Cas joined in, and within a few moments, the bags were in the room, 

Deanna was tucked up in her bed, the lighting was back to just twinkle lights, and the adults were out in the hall. Dean, as the last one out, smiled softly as he closed the door behind him.

In the tent, lying on her bed, Deanna stretched luxuriously, and slowly smiled.

_ So far, so good. _

***

Deciding there was no time like the present, Gabe, Sam, and Cas went down to the garage and collected the old Schwinn 3-speed bicycle that was stored there. Then they went out the garage door, and up the gravel drive to the paved road. 

Sam gave Gabe a brief explanation of what to do, and Gabe gamely got on the bike. He gasped when it wobbled, but just put his feet down and waited a second before trying again.

He couldn’t find his balance, and the bicycle teetered dangerously. Castiel snickered quietly, and called Dean on his cell to get a pool started on how long it would take for Gabe to crash, with Cas taking the “under five minutes” shortest period of time.

Sam offered to help him balance at first, but Gabe waved him off. “I can do this, Samsquatch.”

Cas won the pool. Gabriel didn’t just fall off the bike; he mangled the wheels and ended up lying, completely separate from the bike, face down in the grass next to the road. 

“This shouldn’t be this hard,” Gabe complained, chagrined. He winced as he sat up.

“You okay, baby?” Sam asked.

“Got any liniment I can put on my sprained dignity?” Gabe grinned. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Examining the bike, Sam laughed. “Dude, what did you even hit to screw up the bike’s wheels this badly? There’s no curb here!” 

Sam helped Gabe up.

“Well, so much for _that_ idea,” Gabe sighed.

“Well, there’s a motorized scooter in the garage, too. Dean checked it over a few weeks ago, said it works. It’s kind of small, though. I’d rather you were getting some exercise, but if you can manage the scooter, it might be the best option, for the time being. Maybe run with me in the evening on the shorter run?”

“Yeah, I can do that, Sammich.” Gabe grunted a little as he moved, then let his grace wash over him to get rid of the minor bruising from his fall.

Sam picked up the bike, and the three of them headed back toward the garage. 

“Maybe we should have gotten you some training wheels,” Cas suggested, smirking. 

Gabe poked him, hard. 

“Ow!”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Deanna's settling in nicely. ;)  
> Poor Gabe! 
> 
> Obviously, the art from Ch. 222 should've been in this chapter, but I didn't want to wait to post it once I had drawn it. ;) You get art here, anyway. I forgot to put in the rugs, so forgive that error, please! :D
> 
> Please comment!


	225. Earthquake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean orders in for dinner and Jack goes to get the food. Kathy and Chuck chat briefly. Donna arranges to take vacation time. Dean gets Deanna up from her nap. Delilah wakes in the Pit. and finds something to wear. An earthquake strikes Hell and the Bunker.

After closing Deanna’s door, Dean took Jody and Claire to the kitchen and got them each a cup of coffee and one of Gabe’s muffins to snack on while he started dinner. Shann wandered in for another cup of coffee, and Dean introduced him to the ladies, then asked if he was planning to stay for dinner, or heading home. Shann said he’d stick around, as he had just started a new translation and was getting kind of into it. 

Counting heads (and stomachs), Dean realized he’d be cooking for nine (himself, Sam, Deanna, Jack, Shann, Kathy, Chuck, Jody, and Claire), if he didn’t count the angels, and thirteen (the afore-mentioned humans, plus Gabe, Cas, Balthazar, and Hannah), if he  _ did _ . Looking in the pantry, he further realized he didn’t have enough of any ingredients to make any one thing that would feed everyone. He shrugged, and decided to just call Antonio’s Pizza and go grocery shopping in the morning. Then he asked Jody to remind him to ask one of the angels to lift the warding a bit, to make the Bunker door possible for the delivery person to find, just as Jack came in looking for a snack. Jack offered to do a run to pick up the food from the restaurant, instead.

So, Dean called in an order for pick up, for ten extra-large pizzas (with a variety of toppings), two large salads, two orders of cheesy garlic bread, and apple turnovers for everyone. Jack took off to go get the food, munching on a couple of cookies he’d pocketed on the way. 

Right after Dean got off the phone with the pizzaria, Cas called to start a betting pool on how long it would take Gabe to crash the bike. Cas wanted the “under five minutes” slot; Dean, Claire, and Jody all got in on the action, with Jody betting that Gabe would be fine and not crash at all, Dean taking the five-to-ten minute slot, and Claire betting it would take ten minutes or more. They agreed to put in $5 each, and before Cas could even end the call, he was giggling - Gabe had already crashed, so Cas had already won. Cas sent a picture of the mangled bike to Dean, and Dean showed it to the girls. They both groaned, but each pulled out a $5 bill and handed them to Dean to give to Castiel.

***

Kathy knocked softly on the door to Chuck’s room.

“Come in?” she heard, so she pushed the door open. Chuck was pushing himself up in his bed, apparently just awakening from a nap.

“Chuck? How’s it going?” she asked.

“Well, um, it’s - I, um, I guess, well, it’s okay. Still really tired. Hungry most of the time, which is kinda, well, weird, since you said that… um…  _ He _ was eating, right?”

Kathy went in and sat next to Chuck on the edge of the bed. “Yes, he was. He practically ate me out of house and home, in fact, then paid for extra groceries. He really liked strawberry waffles, and pot roast, especially.”

“I wish… I wish I could remember any of it. I just… don’t.” Chuck looked forlorn; Kathy took his hand and held it gently in hers.

“I’m sorry that you don’t, Chuck. But I’m glad that I’m getting to know you a little better, now. He was interesting, but he could be difficult to talk with, sometimes. You’re… a little easier.” Kathy smiled softly.

Chuck huffed out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah, I bet. I don’t remember him being  _ in  _ me, but I was a prophet before, so it’s not like I don’t know what the Voice of God sounds like.”

“Anyway, Dean said he ordered pizza, and dinner will be here shortly. I just wanted to let you know.” Kathy rose to her feet.

“Kathy? Thank you. Er, I… I really appreciate… well, everything.”

She smiled. “No worries. Come eat, Chuck.”

***

Donna threw a load of laundry in the washer, then pulled out her cell phone and dialed the non-emergency dispatch number for the sheriff’s office.

“Hey, Sue.”

“Hey, Donna. I got that bonus taken care of, everyone will find a little something extra in their pay envelope next week.”

“Great, thank you. Hey, I’m gonna need to take some time off, starting Monday. Can you check for me, see how much I have available in terms of vacation time?”

“Don’t need to, you’ve taken a bunch of sick time, but almost no vacation time at all, D. You can take your full two weeks, except….”

“Except… what, Sue?”

“Well, Donna, you’re the one who instituted the new rule about notice for taking vacation, remember? At the start of the year, you said anyone who wanted to use vacation time and had it available could, but had to give at least three days’ notice, so the department could be adequately covered, in case we needed to call another county for assistance. Now, you can take three days’ sick time before your vacation starts, you don’t need to give notice of sick time, but that’ll use up the rest of your sick time. So, if you got sick again in the next six weeks….”

“I’d have to work regardless? Yeah, that’s fine, Sue. It’s my rule and it’s a good one. Can you set it up? I’ll be out two weeks, and actually, I’ll be leaving town on Sunday, but I was already off that day. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in Kansas, but you can reach me on my cell.”

“Will do. I take it I shouldn’t be calling Doug’s office for staffing assistance, though?” Sue asked, wryly.

“Probably not, no.” Donna laughed.

***

Jack returned with the food and went around to let others’ know it was time to eat. Jody and Claire helped Dean set it up in the War Room, then Dean went to get Deanna.

He knocked softly on her bedroom door.

“Hello?” he called, quietly.

“Come in,” he heard. He pushed open the door, and saw his daughter sitting up in bed, stretching and yawning. “Hey, daddy!” She smiled at him. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey, baby. Do you like pizza, honey? We’ve got pizza and salad and stuff for dinner tonight, and there are some additional people for you to meet, if you feel up to it; otherwise, I could bring your food here and you can eat with just me, it’s up to you.”

“I’m good, I just needed to sleep for a little while, and now I am a little hungry, so I’m ready to get up. And yes, daddy, I like pizza.” She stood up in bed, and walked to the edge of the bed, where the gap in the tulle “tent” was. She raised her arms to be picked up again, and Dean obliged, giving her a hug.

***

Deep in the Pit, Delilah opened her eyes and rolled over. She sat up, slowly, yawned, and stretched. She heard a rumbling around her, but ignored it.

_ It’s nice and warm and cozy, here. Why am I awake? I like sleeping.  _

She stood slowly, stretching and relaxing, testing each muscle group slowly. 

_ Mmm. It does feel good to stretch. How long have I been asleep, I wonder? And where is everyone? Where is my Malachai? Where are my children, my grandbabies?  _

She glanced down, and realized she was nude.

_ If I’m going in search of friends and family, I should probably put something on. _

She reached out to what was at hand; pulling some lava from a pool nearby, she wrapped it around herself as a cloak.

_ Mmm. Nice and warm. _

She began the slow ascent from the depths, and went in search of Malachai.

***

In Hell’s throne room, the walls and floor began to shake and small items fell off of tables. A loud rumbling noise filled the room, and far-off shrieks of terror could be heard from the hallway. Rowena clutched the arms of the throne, and tried not to fall off of it. She turned to Malachai in the corner.

“Is that her?”

Malachai leered, then laughed heartily. “My love is finally awake!”

***

In the Bunker, alarms started going off, the lights dimmed to the red emergency lighting, and everyone reached out to grab the nearest wall or stationary object to keep from falling as the floors and walls began to shake violently.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ut oh!
> 
> Sorry, no art this chapter.
> 
> Please comment! ;)


	226. After the Quake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Cas, Sam, and Gabe chat after the quake about possible causes. Gabe relays a prior conversation. Sam get a phone call. Light returns to this universe from the empty one where he was stretching via the Empty, and finds someone there waiting for him. Delilah wanders the hallways of Hell, looking for a way up from the bottom of the Pit.

In the Bunker, alarms started going off, the lights dimmed to the red emergency lighting, and everyone reached out to grab the nearest wall or stationary object to keep from falling as the floors and walls began to shake violently.

Then, as abruptly as it had started, it ended. The lights came back up to normal, the shaking stopped, and, as if nothing had happened, everything was suddenly fine.

“What the hell…?” Dean wondered aloud.

“I think that’s an accurate estimation of the situation, actually,” Cas said. “I think whatever that was, it did, in fact, come from Hell.”

“Well, any earthquake starts below the Earth’s crust. But you mean, you think this literally happened because of something that happened  _ in Hell _ , Cas?” Sam asked.

“Indeed.” Cas replied.

“Billie did say Rowena needed help dealing with an entity, um... Mordechai...? No,  _ Malachai _ . Billie thought it might be the Cosmic Entity from the Empty,” Gabe put in.

Dean swung around to stare at Gabe. “Wait - what?”

“Yeah. I thought I told you guys. Didn’t I tell you?”

Sam’s cell phone rang, and he moved a little away from the others to take the call.

“No, you didn’t tell me that the Cosmic Entity was hanging out in Hell, terrorizing Rowena!” Dean exclaimed. “When was this conversation with Billie?”

“Guys? We have another problem,” Sam said, having ended his call quickly.

“What now?” Dean snapped.

“Donatello’s dead. We were still listed as his next of kin, so the hospital called me, would’ve called you next if they hadn’t reached me. Apparently, he died of a heart attack at home the night God decided to take off out of Chuck, but his body wasn’t discovered until late this morning.”

“So, a new prophet will be activated? Cas, who was next on your list? Luigi somebody, right?” Dean asked.

“Well, yes, but I don’t think there’ll be a new prophet, actually.” Cas looked troubled.

“Oh, yeah, right.” Gabe caught on to Cas’ meaning, and nodded.

“What am I missing, guys? I thought there always had to be a single prophet. One dies, another takes over.” Dean looked from Cas to Gabe and back again.

“And another did. Chuck.” Gabe sighed.

Cas nodded. “The prophet line is an automated mechanical process in Heaven. When Father took Chuck as his vessel, he pushed Chuck so far down inside himself that the mechanics of the prophet line assumed that Chuck the prophet had died, and the next prophet was activated.”

“Kevin,” Dean said.

“No, actually, there was another prophet in between Chuck and Kevin, but apparently God never spoke to her. Her name was Helen Richardson. She was elderly and not in terribly good health. Kevin was activated upon her death. When Kevin died, Donatello was activated. But when Father left Chuck’s vessel….” Cas’ voice trailed off.

Gabe picked up the explanation. “The mechanical process assumed that the prior prophet, Chuck, had been reactivated, whether through resurrection or another means, doesn’t matter - and killed Donatello.”

“But there were two prophets at the same time when Donatello was in the coma. That guy, um, Tony, the one who was killing people….” Sam started.

Cas cut him off. “Tony wasn’t fully activated; he was hearing  _ Donatello’s brain _ trying to recover, rather than  _ God’s voice _ . And he committed suicide, which was likely a combination of his own desperation and the mechanical process trying to correct the two-prophets-at-once error.”

“All right, all right! If Chuck is back to being the only prophet, we’ve got him under our roof, so, we just keep an eye on him, and that takes care of that. Now, let’s get back to the earthquake from Hell. When was this conversation with Billie, Gabe?” Dean asked.

Gabe thought back. “It was the Saturday before Cas flew Claire in to tell her about the engagement. Shann was asking me questions about this translation he was working on, that one he was so involved with, where he was comparing a text from this universe with one he’d brought back from whatever alternate universe he was in temporarily. He gave you a report, Sam, remember?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got that report, and his notes. And?”

“Didn’t read it, though, did you? The text talks about the birth of God and Amara, their parents - and their grandparents, Malachai and Delilah. True immortals, who blew up their home planet in the hopes that they might finally die, but failed, because their immortality is apparently on the atomic level, and although they were blown into tiny pieces, they ultimately re-formed. Malachai took over Hell, until God made Lucifer ruler there; apparently they negotiated and Malachai agreed to leave with Lucifer in charge. But now, he’s back.”

“Sam, get that report, would you?” Dean snapped out.

“On it.”

***

Much as He was enjoying being able to stretch out, Light felt it was time to return to His favorite universe. He had a couple of things to check on - how much of Amara was still in His trap, and whether He could siphon any of her powers from the remainder; and if, as Tiamat had told him, Pappy was actually awake, where he was, what he was doing, and whether Namma was waking up, as well.

He left the empty universe and slipped into the Empty, intending to use it as a shortcut. But instead of the black, still emptiness with which He was familiar, the landscape was lighter - gray, rather than black - and He could hear indistinct whispers in the breeze. A breeze which ought not to be blowing, here. Clearly, Pappy wasn’t on duty. The sleeping denizens of the Empty were waking. 

Light was considering going back and taking the long way, instead, when He was stopped dead in His tracks by the sight of a tall figure in a long flowing white gown, beckoning to Him. This was not an entity of His creation, but also not a family member - or at least, not one that He knew.

***

Delilah wandered the lower hallways of Hell just outside the Pit. She gathered, from the screams and cries emanating from the few doors that she passed, that she didn’t want to turn off into any of them. She wrapped the lava cloak around her more firmly, snuggling into it for warmth, and continued on, looking for a hallway that seemed to lead upward, rather than straight ahead or further down.

_ Delilah and the lava cloak  _

Delilah had, early on in the aeons following the explosion, chosen to return to her original form, and she had kept to that same figure, since. She knew that Malachai had delighted in taking on a variety of shapes, sizes, etc., changing skin and hair colors as easily as a thought, but she had never seen the need. She rather liked her fiery hair color and pale skin. She thought the lava cloak probably went with the hair, and wished for a mirror.

She found a staircase that seemed to head upward in the right direction, and started up it, stepping lightly, and resting a light hand on the iron banister, until she noticed that the cloak, dragging behind her hand, was melting the metal away. She didn’t want to do further damage, so she resisted the urge to reach out and touch, simply continued along, trying to find her way to someone who could perhaps give her directions out of this confusing realm.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither Gabe nor Shann reported their conversation with Billie, though Shann did include it in his report - which Sam's been too busy to actually read, beyond just flipping through it. Oops.   
> Poor Donatello. RIP, Sir.   
> Light's back! Or, He's on the way back, at least. But who's this entity in the Empty? Hmmm.....  
> Delilah's surfacing! And she bears a striking resemblance to *someone*, but I can't quite place who.... Hmm. ;)
> 
> Art! ;)
> 
> Please comment! C'mon, guys, comments are life for me, and proof of life for you! ;D


	227. Ginger Snaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena makes a suggestion, then makes her escape. Light runs into an elder. Rowena arrives at the Bunker just after the earthquake and makes Deanna's acquaintance. Shann and Lucifer have a chat.

In the Throne Room, Rowena looked over at Malachai. He was leaning against a wall in the shadows, grinning in his obscene way, dripping ooze onto the carpeting. 

“Your Excellency, if I might make a suggestion? It seems to be taking Your Lady quite a while to come up from below. Perhaps she might have lost her way, as the tunnels and hallways have been extended quite a bit since Lucifer’s day? Maybe you should go and try to find her, make sure she finds her way up from below the Pit in the most economical use of time?” Rowena smiled softly, though she wanted to shudder.

“Not a bad idea, little Queen. It’s true that the map of Hell is quite different now from when she originally went to lie down.” Malachai seemed to consider, his head tilted a little as if he were listening to something a little out of reach. “Perhaps I shall take a little stroll.”

Rowena was careful to be still as he passed her, and waited to move from the throne until he had disappeared down the hall, and she had counted to ten. She sighed with relief, and vanished.

***

Light glanced back over his shoulder at the way he’d come, wondering idly if he should just go back, but then he heard a voice calling his name. Looking forward again, he saw that the figure in white who was beckoning to him was now calling out to him, as well. 

_ Who is he, and how does he know me? _

Thinking he should probably find out, Light decided to brazen it out. He squared his shoulders (metaphorically speaking; in his present form, he had no shoulders) and moved over to the figure.

“Light. So nice to finally meet you. It’s been so long since you last stepped outside the bubble of your little network of alternate universes - since you last came out here, where we could find you. But then, you probably didn’t even know that we were aware of your existence, much less that we’ve been actively looking for you - and the rest of your family, particularly your grandmother.”

“Who  _ are _ you?” 

“I am Elder Gershon.”

***

Gabe was closest to the iron steps when the knocking started, but everyone in the War Room heard it.

“Who’s  _ that _ , now?” Dean wondered.

Gabe climbed the steps and opened the door, catching Rowena in his arms as she fell into them, sobbing. Sam went up to close the door behind them, as Gabe helped Rowena down into the War Room, gently leading her down the stairs and over to a seat at the Map Table.

“Hey, Red. It’s okay, you’re safe now, we’ve got you.” Gabe patted her shoulder gently and handed her a box of tissues. He looked over at the others, and shrugged.

Rowena blew her nose delicately, and dried her eyes, sniffling a little. “Hello, boys. I’m sorry to be such a watering pot. It’s just been so nerve wracking these last few days.”

Deanna walked over to Rowena, and tugged on her sleeve gently, then raised her arms. Rowena looked a little startled, but picked the child up and set her on the table next to her.

_ Rowena and Deanna  _

“And who might you be, child?” Rowena asked.

Dean cleared his throat. “Rowena, this is my daughter, Deanna. Deanna, this is Rowena, the Queen of Hell.”

Rowena looked sharply at Dean for a moment, then turned her attention back to the little girl. “Deanna, is it? Well. Aren’t you a wee ginger beauty.”

Deanna smiled up at Rowena. “You are, too.” Deanna leaned over and gave Rowena a gentle hug.

“Oh, and a total sweetie-pie to boot.” Rowena hugged back, charmed.

Deanna whispered into Rowena’s ear. Rowena listened intently, then nodded. 

Dean muttered to Sam, “Great, they’re ganging up on me, now.”

Sam chuckled quietly.

Deanna turned to Dean. “Daddy? Are we still going to have pizza? I’m hungry.”

“Yes. Sorry, baby.” Dean nodded.

“It’s okay, Daddy. You’ve been busy with crises. I understand.” Deanna smiled sweetly at Dean, and slid off the table to the floor. “Can I help with anything?”

“No, I just need to get the plates, and I will be right back. You stay here with Uncle Sam, okay?”

“Okay.” Deanna moved to Sam’s side, and tugged on his sleeve gently, then raised her arms. Sam picked her up and tossed her a little way into the air, hands actually always on her, then caught her, and gave her a hug as she giggled.

Rowena moved over by Gabriel. “Dean has a daughter?” she asked,  _ sotto voce _ . 

“Tell you later, Red.” Gabriel nodded toward Sam and Deanna, and Rowena signaled her understanding.

“So, how have you been, Gabriel?” she asked.

“I’m well. Just so you know, I’m, um… I’m with Sam, now.”

“Ahhh. Good choice.” Rowena smiled knowingly. “And how is Castiel doing?”

“Good. He and Dean are engaged. Ask and I bet he’ll show you his ring. He practically glows when he talks about it.”

“Reeeally. I become Queen of Hell, and no one tells me anything!”

“Well, to be fair, Red, you  _ did _ die.”

“Pfft. Like  _ that  _ means anything.” Rowena looked offended for about ten seconds, then she and Gabriel both started chuckling.

***

Shann had explained football to Lucifer’s satisfaction, and then he’d moved on to hockey. The Archangel in his head asked intelligent questions, and was a lively conversationalist, and Shann realized that he was actually having...fun. Not something he had expected. 

Suddenly, the apartment building began to shake, and Shann heard the town’s air raid siren activate. “What the…?” Shann held on to the arm of the couch as it threatened to toss him off and to the floor. And then, as suddenly as it had started, the apparent earthquake was over.

_ “There may be aftershocks; you might want to wait a bit before getting up and moving around.” _

“Yeah, thanks. That was weird. No apparent damage to the electrical systems, the TV and the lights are still on.” Shann waited a bit, then rose carefully and went into the kitchen; he turned on the tap and found the water was working fine, as well. He went back out to the living room and switched the television to a news channel, then switched to another. Oddly, no one was talking about an unexpected earthquake in Kansas. 

Shann thought a moment, then reached for his cell phone, and dialed Sam’s number. “Hey, Sam. I assume you felt that? Everyone okay over there? ... Yeah, it was weird. Just shaking everything for a minute, but no damage to electricity or water, apparently…. Yeah, we’re fine…. Heh. Yeah, it’s kinda weird to say that, but it’s true. No worries, honestly…. All right. See you Monday.” Shann ended the call.

_ “Sam’s a worrier.” _

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Shann grinned. “”S’okay. I don’t mind. Seriously, best boss I’ve ever had. Look, we haven’t talked about this, but I hope you don’t mind, and don’t get too bored, if I continue to sleep at night.”

_ “Why would I mind? You need the rest. And to be honest, I’m still worn out from having the Mark and being in the Cage for so long. Not corrupt, now, but in need of rest myself. So, if you want to lie down, it’s fine with me; I can use the rest time myself, although I won’t sleep. I’ve got a couple of books stashed in my little corner in here, so if I’m not completely resting, I’ll just settle in to read until you wake. It’s fine.” _

“Okay. Cas suggested that I try not to become too dependent on your energies, that I try to maintain normal functions while we share space, so that if and when we do part ways, it won’t be so hard on me. I think it’s a good idea.”

_ “As do I. May I ask, are you planning to … part ways, as you put it… soon?” _

“Not planning, exactly, no. Just trying to look ahead to the future. To be honest, I’m interested in someone; she’s a friend, that’s all, for now - but both of us could potentially see it maybe going somewhere at some point. But….”

_ “But not with me still here? That’s fine. I didn’t make the offer with the intention of this being permanent. I really do just think it’s easier for me to assist you with your research if we can read the materials at the same time, and talk directly about them, mind to mind. But your research won’t go on forever, and even with me letting you stay in control, and even with you following Castiel’s excellent advice, being a vessel is wearing on a human body. It won’t be as bad on you to have me here as it was for Nick - I had the Mark then, and that, in addition to my energies, was more than Nick could take for very long.  _

_ “Just so you know, in addition to no longer having the Mark, I’ve deliberately dampened my energies a bit, so they won’t wear on you as much. And, if you do continue to eat, sleep, etc., it shouldn’t harm you to have me here, for up to five years, and if it doesn’t last that long, that’s fine, too. Beyond that, you might suffer from headaches after I leave you. But it wouldn’t be anything that Cas or Gabe or I couldn’t fix for you.  _

_ “I promise you, Shann, I have no wish to cause you harm. I truly recognize the kindness of the favor that you’re doing for me, and I don’t intend to repay you by doing anything that would hurt you or cause you any sort of anguish, mental or physical.” _

“I appreciate that. How do you prefer that I address you, by the way?”

_ “Lucifer is fine. If you want a shortened form, I much prefer ‘Lu’ to ‘Lucy.’ Which is why Gabriel and Dean both insist on calling me Lucy.”  _ Lucifer’s voice in Shann’s head took on a wry tone at that last part.

“Got it.” Shann chuckled a bit.

_ “And you?” _

“Well, my full first name is Shannon, after the river in Ireland, but just about everyone but my mother calls me ‘Shann.’”

_ “‘Shann’ it is, then.” _

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowena got Malachai out of the Throne Room!   
> Light might be in trouble.... ut oh!?  
> Rowena's right - since when has it mattered that someone from this bunch died? ;)  
> Lucifer seems sincere. Are you trusting him, yet? Shann seems to be.... Hmmm.
> 
> Art!
> 
> Please comment! :D
> 
> Sorry for the delay - busy with election stuff, registering people to vote, etc. I'll be phonebanking tomorrow, then participating in the mini-GISH hunt for Hallowe'en - is anyone else doing either the SPN phonebank or the hunt? let me know - so there may be another delay before the next update. :D


	228. Friday Evening Journal Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dinner, everyone goes their separate ways to get some sleep. Dean decides to write in his journal before bed.

After dinner, Cas showed Rowena to a room, and she gratefully went in, closed the door, laid down, and went straight to sleep; it had been a rough few weeks downstairs with Malachai constantly watching her, and she was exhausted.

Deanna, too, was tired, and Claire took her to her room and put her to bed. Then Claire went to her own room, and fell into her own bed. Jody followed suit soon after, after a brief discussion with Dean of the things she and Claire had learned about Deanna from Lilah and on the trip down from North Dakota.

Sam and Gabe took clean-up duty, then headed off to their own room. Hannah, Balthazar, Chuck, and Kathy drifted off one by one to their own eventual rest, as well.

Dean wanted to do some journaling, so he went and dug out his notebook and pen, and seated himself at the desk in the room he shared with Cas. Cas came in just as he was turning to a blank page.

“Hello, Dean. I don’t want to disturb you while you’re journaling; should I go and read in the library for a while?”

“No, Cas, stay. I’ll just be a few minutes, no point in you leaving the room and having to come back.” Dean smiled, and Cas took a seat on the bed, and nodded.

“All right. I’ll just read here, then.”

Dean turned back to his notebook, regarded the blank page, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. And then, he began to write.

***

**_Friday evening_ **

_ I haven’t written since Wednesday. I feel awful about that, but there’s just so much going on, I haven’t had a spare moment. But at the same time, I feel - well, just  _ **_good_ ** _. I told Cas, after writing my last journal entry on Wednesday, that it had been a long time since I’d had much to look forward to, but now, there’s the wedding, my daughter, my new vehicle restoration and Salvage Yard business, and as I was writing, I had realized that there was just one thing missing: fear. I wasn’t afraid of screwing things up, or of letting Cas or Deanna down, I wasn’t afraid that Cas or Deanna would leave me, or that I wouldn’t be able to handle things. I had realized that I have a support system, a real family, and that crippling fear of abandonment, that I’d had my whole life, was just gone, along with my old anger and self-loathing. I just felt  _ **_happy_ ** _. And apparently, I was happy enough that I was glowing again, and Cas had to tell me to tamp it down a bit. Heh. _

_ Cas had a chat with Jack, asked him to be in the wedding party, and told him about Deanna. Jack agreed to stand up with us, and to help us with Deanna. Cas told me that Jack said that he thought that it would be “cool” to help out as Deanna grows older. _

_ Cas is no longer sharing his vessel with Lucifer; Shann decided to take Luci up on the offer of research assistance in exchange for use of Shann’s body. Shann gets to stay in control, and it seems to be working out okay, so far. I was present when Shann asked Cas if he could just speaking directly with Luci for a minute, and Cas let Lu come forward to speak with Shann, and it was a little freaky, but Lu did a good job of assuaging Shann’s nerves, but after he retreated back into Cas, Shann asked me about my experience having been Michael’s vessel. I told Shann that Michael and Lucifer were different cases; even at his worst, Lucifer was never a liar - he preferred the stark truth, as I saw when he was in Sam. But Michael just did whatever Michael wanted to do, whenever, to whomever, without compunction. Between the two of them, in my judgment, Michael was the worst case scenario, and Lu was positively trustworthy by comparison. Then I left to go shopping for things for Deanna’s room, and Cas and Shann talked a little more, and then Shann said ‘yes’ to Lucifer, and Lucifer left Cas for Shann. So, now, Cas is just Cas again, and I have to say it’s a relief. Obviously, yes, I’m concerned for Shann, but I’m not in love with  _ **_him_ ** _! _

_ When I came back from shopping, the switch had been made, and Cas let me know right away - and then suggested that we get back to our ‘one new thing’ schedule, as Lucifer had been putting a damper on our sex life lately, and now that was over. I was completely on board with that suggestion. _

_ But first I wanted to get Deanna’s bedroom set up for her. The Men of Letters’ furnishings are fine for adult guests, and Sam and I had never had anything of our own to have any sort of preference, really. It’s not like any of the angels care about paint or curtains or the like. So, beyond hanging up my weapons collection and a few pieces of art, I’ve never done much about decorating, and neither has Sam, and I doubt any of the angels ever thought of it (except maybe Gabriel, but I don’t know if he’s done any decorating, even if he considered it). But a little girl who’s actually going to be living here for much of her life deserves some special things, so I wanted to spiff things up for her. I got some pink paint and painted an accent wall in the room right next door to the room that Cas and I share - didn’t want Deanna to have to wander around and get lost in the Bunker, which is huge and confusing until you know your way around, if she needed me in the night. And then I got four different sets of bed linens and rugs and such, so that if I picked one and she didn’t like it, we could change it out right away. I really wanted her to be comfortable immediately in her own space. _

_ So, what I actually picked to put out for her is a set with white and two different shades of pink, with floor rugs, comforter, sheets, blankets, pillow cases and shams, and then I got this kind of hanger thing that hangs from the ceiling, and you drape tulle over it to make a tent. It sounds easier than it is - it took six grown men to construct, assemble, and hang the silly thing - but it ended up looking great. And then we strung fairy twinkle lights all around the room, and I set it up so she could have just the twinkle lights, or those and a lamp, or both of those with the overhead light, depending on what she needed to do, with just the flick of a switch. We also assembled an extra floor-to-ceiling bookcase, and Sam put up the little glow-in-the-dark galaxy on the ceiling. By the time we were done, with just the twinkle lights on, the room looked like the entrance to a celestial fairy bower, a romantic fantasy for a little girl - and if Deanna had turned out to be a tomboy, I would have been doomed. But as it turns out, she’s actually a fairly “girly” girl, and she loved the room when she finally arrived late this afternoon. _

_ When we’d finished that, Cas and I sat down to do our five-year planning. I explained the assignment to him, and asked him to come to the next therapy session with me, which he says he’s happy to do. I also apologized, because I’d meant to ask him as soon as I got home from therapy on Tuesday, but the call with Lilah about Deanna had just blown it out of my mind. He didn’t understand why that was cause for an apology, so I explained that I had sworn that therapy would be my first priority, that he was right when he said that therapy had to come first, no matter what. It still does, no matter how much progress I’ve made, and no matter what else comes up in life. I had backslid, and had some catching up to do, and I had to start with acknowledging the error and apologizing for it. Cas, always gracious, accepted the apology, and promised to be better about reminding me about my therapy work, if it seemed like life was getting out of hand again. He’s so good for me. _

_ So then we sat down to discuss plans, and I told him this: “the only thing I know for certain, Cas, is that wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I want to be with you. There are other things I can think of, like getting the Salvage Yard going and restoring the cars, and raising Deanna, but all of that - every bit of it - is secondary to the plans I want - need - to make with you, Angel. Deanna, Sam, Gabe, they’re family, and they’re important, but you’re my  _ **_life_ ** _. And that’s not gonna change. I need for you to know that, Cas.” _

_ He said that he agreed, but with the caveat that Deanna would have to change things at least a bit, because until she’s grown up, she’ll have to be a priority for both of us - not more important that each other, but maybe  _ **_as_ ** _ important. I disagreed. I told him that maybe I’d change my mind when she arrived and I met her, but I didn’t think I would. I’ll love her fiercely, and want to protect her and spend time with her, etc., but - and this sounds harsh, I know - if Anne Marie hadn’t died and I’d never found out about Deanna, I would have lived my whole life without knowing and I would have been fine. But I can’t live without Cas. Now, of course, Deanna will be a priority for both of us, but Cas isn’t a mere priority to me. I need Cas like I need air to breathe. He’s a  _ **_necessity_ ** _.  _

_ Cas, of course, then pointed out that I might be expressing that in a way that’s just a tad unhealthy. He pointed out that it’s unlikely that he’ll die, but we both know how fragile existence can be - who better than us, to know that? We, who have each already died several times and been resurrected, but are unlikely to be brought back yet again, because who would do it, now? We both have to accept that the loss of the other is possible, but if that happened, the other would have to go on, for Deanna’s sake if nothing else. “Like it or not, the knowledge of her existence, now that we have it, does change our dynamic. It has to.” And, of course, he’s right.  _

_ So, we decided that we would sit down and discuss plans the next morning, but it was getting late, and we were both getting tired - without Lucifer’s Archangel energy, even Cas was planning to sleep - and we both wanted to be together, so we got ready for bed. I won’t go too far into the steamy details (sorry, Mia), but Cas wanted two things - to be in charge that night, and to have me fulfill one of his fantasies the next morning, Cas in charge is always a revelation to me. I’ve been through such bad experiences in Hell with having someone else in charge of my sexual experience - rape, succubus torture, being Alastair’s sex slave - that you’d think that I wouldn’t want to submit, but I do, to Cas. Because I  _ **_know_ ** _ that I can trust him not to hurt me, and he doesn’t. He gives me what I need, cares for me, never fails to consider how best to give me pleasure, so I can relax, and let my guard down, let him in, let him take the reins, and just feel. And I need that. In everyday life, combat, hunting, etc., I’m so often the one making the decisions, who has to be in control, and it’s exhausting. Submitting to Cas is like switching all that off. I’m no masochist - I’ve been through  _ **_more_ ** _ than enough pain, thanks - but I do need to just hand over control now and then, and I can do that with Cas. I don’t think I could do that with anyone else. The trust level just wouldn’t be there. But I  _ **_know_ ** _ that I can trust Cas, implicitly, with everything I am. _

_ The fantasy that Cas wanted to experience, though, kind of almost required that  _ **_I_ ** _ be the one in charge. And I found it surprisingly easy to give the same back to him - care and love, no pain, letting him relax and let go. And of course, he needs that, too. He was the commander of one of Heaven’s garrisons, he’s technically in command of Heaven even now - heck, he’s been God, poor guy. And it hit me that while he’s the only person that I can relax with, the same goes the other way. I’m the only person that  _ **_he_ ** _ can really truly relax with, too. I do have a slight tendency toward the sadistic, but although I do love to tease Cas, I can’t ever bring myself to want to hurt him. I just want to draw out the pleasure. _

_ Anyway, the next morning, we did sit down to plan, and we wrote down some goals - see attached. We started out small - what did we want to accomplish by the end of the year, just the next six weeks. I know you wanted five years, but I just can’t see that far ahead right now. _

_ One note about the attached - we just wrote down “role play” for one of the goals, so I have to explain that, Mia. Remember that I told you about the Amy Pond incident, and Sam shooting my daughter, Emma, after, partly to save me, but partly in revenge? I told Cas what you had said about needing my relationship with Sam more than I needed to have a confrontation with Sam about my remaining anger over that, and I suggested that Cas and I could go down to the boiler room, he could soundproof it, and we could role play, with him playing Sam, so I would have a safe place to let that emotion out, without taking it out on Sam.  _

_ I didn’t stop to think, though, about how role playing like that might affect Cas. He said that while he liked the idea of me letting out the toxic feelings in a safe way, he didn’t think that he could or should be the person playing Sam. He said, “We’ve had our own troubled past, and I’m concerned that if you and I were in a soundproofed room, with you letting out all that anger at Sam that you’ve tamped down for so long, that my own insecurities would rise up again. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to play that role for you, Dean. There have just been too many times when I’ve felt that you were taking your anger at others, or at a situation, out on me, for me to feel comfortable with this scenario.”  _

_ And of course, he’s completely right. I made Cas into my whipping post for far too long, and treated him far too badly, for him to be comfortable falling back into that situation, and it was wrong of me to ask it of him. I should have realized. So, I apologized, and we moved on, at Cas’ insistence, but I still feel badly, and I think he does, too. And I’m not sure what else I can or should do about it.  _

_ I don’t want to drop into a shame spiral, but I do think that my tendency toward thoughtlessness is potentially destructive, and I’d like some help developing strategies so that I don’t keep doing things like that. I don’t want to hurt Cas - or anyone - but especially not because I just didn’t think enough of the consequences my words or actions might have for them.  _

_ Deanna arrived with Jody and Claire in the afternoon. One look was all it took. I’m in love with my daughter, Mia. I have a daughter! And she’s beautiful and smart and funny and sweet. And she does have powers. As I was showing her to her room, we were chatting, and she asked if she should restart all the clocks. Apparently, when her mother was dying in the hospital, they made Deanna leave her side when visiting hours ended. She thought that if the clocks weren’t working and they couldn’t tell the visiting hours were over for sure, maybe they’d let her stay. So she wished for the clocks to stop, and they did. Everywhere. I can tell we’re going to have to be a little careful with asking her to do things, and in making sure that she knows what she is and is not allowed to do, but fortunately it seems that Anne Marie had been raising her well with good guidelines to follow regarding right and wrong.  _

_ I wish that I remembered Anne Marie, but I don’t. Deanna says she has a picture of her in her things, that she’ll let me look at it when she unpacks her stuff. Maybe it will jog my memory. _

_ She started out calling me “Dean.” That’s about what I expected, frankly - after all, she doesn’t know me, or that much about me. But after just a few minutes of our little tour of the Bunker, she asked if she could call me “Daddy.” My heart expanded, just like the Grinch’s. Not that I didn’t have room for her before, but the emotions that flooded me when she said that… I just can’t. _

_ Apparently, Deanna has a little bit of guilt because she thinks she should have been able to “fix” Anne Marie’s cancer. Anne Marie told her it wasn’t her fault, and that she shouldn’t feel badly, and I said the same, but I know she still feels it. I’ll keep working with her on it. _

_ Deanna loved her room, just as it was. Especially the twinkle lights and the tent over her bed. She wanted to take a nap, and I think it was partly because she was tired, but more because she wanted to be inside the tent! _

_ Sam’s been running, training for a marathon, and Gabe insists on going with him, but isn’t in nearly as good shape physically. So they tried having Gabe ride a bike, but Gabe didn’t know how, and crashed, mangling the only bicycle on hand. We do have a mini-scooter, though, and he apparently can handle that all right. Cas was in his element, practically giggling as he took up a pool on how soon Gabe would crash - which he won! I’ve seen Cas laugh, and smile subversively, but giggling? That one’s new. It was freaking adorable, actually. _

_ I sent two of my “therapy letters” out this week so far (I started small, sue me), to Alex and to Donna. Each of them called me immediately upon reading when they received them today, with very sweet reactions. In fact, during our call, Donna decided she’s going to come down and help us plan the wedding, and she’ll be arriving on Monday. I think we might even still have a room available for her; seems like the Bunker’s been filling up fast lately.  _

_ In fact, this evening, right after the brief earthquake, Rowena arrived out of nowhere, abandoning Hell for the hope of safety with us. We haven’t gotten her story out of her, yet; we ate dinner (pizza) as the whole gang just after she arrived, and by the time that was over, everyone seemed ready for bed, so we all just went our separate ways. I’ll have a talk with Ro in the morning, and find out what was going on that has her so freaked out. _

_ Just after the earthquake and just before Ro showed up, Sam got a call to tell us that Donatello has died of a heart attack. Apparently it happened a couple of days ago, but they only found the body this morning, as he lives alone. Cas and Gabe think that the “automated prophet system” killed him when Chuck was “reactivated” as a prophet, when God left Chuck’s body. There can be only one active prophet at a time, and deactivating them apparently kills them. _

_ And that basically brings us up to the present. Cas is reading in bed, waiting for me, and I’m getting a little tired - long, long day - so I’ll end it here. _

***

Dean capped his pen, yawned, put the notebook and pen away, and went to snuggle.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean recognizing where he needs to grow, and actively asking for help!!! PROGRESS!
> 
> No art, because (1) this ran really long as it is, and (2) ELECTION/GISH = no time to draw this week.
> 
> PLEASE, PLEASE COMMENT! So much stuff is going on in the world - in the world of this story, the world of the show (see below), and the real world. How are YOU doing? ;) If you comment on the show, please put it in brackets, as I do below - thanks! Love you, guys!
> 
> [So, spoilers, S15E18 - "Despair"...
> 
> RIP, Cas. *sob*  
> WTF, Dean? You couldn't gasp out an "I love you, too"? Not mad at Jensen, just the writer.   
> And it looks like Chuck went and did a global "Thanos-snap." When he did it to Becky's kids, he said they weren't dead, just "away." I'm hoping he hasn't really killed everyone in the world other than Sam/Dean/Jack, and that they'll all come back from "away" in the finale....?   
> Still liking my rewrite of S15 better than the actual. You?]


	229. Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes Gabe early to go running. Deanna wakes early and decides to test how far she can trust Dean and the others. Dean and Cas wake early, Cas realizes Deanna's on the move to explore the Bunker on her own, and, realizing how dangerous a place the Bunker can be for a little girl on her own, Dean and Cas head out to go find her before she gets hurt.

Saturday morning dawned cold; there was frost on the ground outside the Bunker and since no one had adjusted the thermostat before bed, the usually slightly chilly hallways were frosty when Sam woke at 5:00. He noticed that the clock was working and wondered when that had happened, then shrugged, and poked Gabe.

“Gabe. Time to get up, baby.”

“Wha? Nnn. Trd. G’way.” Gabe snuggled deeper into the blanket.

Sam smiled softly and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Okay. I’ll just go running outside without you or anyone else with me, then.”

Gabe opened his right eye and peered at Sam unhappily. “Fine. Gimme a minute, and go make some damn coffee.”

Sam leaned down and kissed Gabe’s cheek. “Not a problem.”

Sam stood and stretched, and Gabe watched admiringly. Sam pulled on a sweatshirt over the t-shirt he’d worn to bed, and some thick socks, then his running shoes; he’d already had sweatpants on. He smiled at Gabriel, then headed for the kitchen.

Gabe pouted for a moment, but then got himself up and dressed. He put on two pair of socks, in addition to long underwear under his sweat pants, and a t-shirt under a sweat shirt. The archangel did not enjoy being cold. He stuck his feet into his shoes, and shuffled out to the kitchen, where Sam had a cup of coffee waiting. He sipped it sitting at the table while he tied his shoes. Sam ate an apple and watched, smiling as the angel groused about how early it was and how unfair it was to have to get out of his warm bed on a cold day.

“You don’t have to come, Gabe.”

“Yes. I. Do. Samuel.” Gabe bit out, not looking at Sam.

Sam sighed softly. “Okay. Then let’s go out through the garage, and you can take the scooter. I want to do thirty miles this morning, before I call Mia, so let’s go.”

***

Deanna woke up early and stared up at the layers of tulle making up the tent above her bed, and the twinkle lights strung around her room, and smiled. It really was such a pretty room.

Her daddy seemed nice enough, and he had promised that she could trust him.

_ He said I could trust him, and Cas, and Gabe, and Sam. That’s a lot of people to trust. But they all do seem nice, and it seems logical that one could trust an angel, particularly the angel in charge of Heaven, and the Archangel Gabriel, messenger of God! But then, an untrustworthy person would say the same. So how can I know? _

_ Dean - I mean, Daddy - wasn’t angry about the clocks. He just agreed that they should be reset. He didn’t punish me for being naughty, but I think he was being sympathetic and didn’t think about consequences. Maybe I should have told him that Mommy probably would have punished me for it, had she known about it. Maybe I still should, and see what he does. _

_ I can’t just trust him because he says it’s okay to trust him. That would be silly. And I can’t just trust him because I want to so badly. He has to earn it. So, I have to find ways for him  _ **_to_ ** _ earn it. I have to test him a little. Nothing rising to the level of naughty, nothing that Mommy would have punished me for, but small things, to see how he reacts. I have to be  _ **_sure_ ** _ before I send Hank and Gray back. _

_ Rowena seemed nice. Daddy said she’s the Queen of Hell. So that would make her the boss of Hank and Gray. Maybe that means I can trust her, as I trust them. I could ask her for help in coming up with ways to test Daddy. I bet she’d like that. I heard her giggle a little when Daddy thought we were ganging up on him, last night, when we were whispering. It was a little funny, and I know he didn’t mean it in a bad way.  _

_ He did go out of his way to make sure I had a nice place to call my own. This room really is pretty. I’ve seen some of the other rooms in passing, from the hall, and they all seem the same - a little bland and utilitarian. This is really the only room that looks like anyone took any thought about decorating, and I bet that was Daddy. The others helped, too, so maybe I really can trust all of them. I just want to know for sure! _

_ I wonder what they’d do if I kind of disappeared for awhile? Not anything bad, I wouldn’t go outside alone, but the Bunker is a big place, and Claire mentioned that it can be easy to get lost if you’re not familiar with its layout. So, what if I wandered around a bit, and made them search for me? See what they do about it, how long it takes for them to realize I’m missing, how long it takes for them to find me, see who picks up on my mental call for help? That seems like it might be a good idea for today, before they can show me around more and it becomes too problematic to claim that I just got lost trying to find the kitchen or something. Maybe even this morning. _

Deanna slid out of bed, and dug around in her bag to find a sweater, a pair of pants, and some warm socks. She got herself dressed quickly.

_ It’s cold in here this morning. I know we’re underground, but this feels like winter. I wonder if it snowed; probably not - that probably would have made it warmer down here, not colder. Just a cold air temperature, then, I bet. _

She went to the door of her room, opened it a crack, and peered out into the hallway. She didn’t see anyone, but then she heard voices in the distance. She stretched out with her powers and listened.

_ Oh, it’s Uncle Sam, and Gabriel. Sam wants to go running, and Gabriel is insisting on going with him, but doesn’t want to because of the cold. Oh! Gabriel is Uncle Sam’s guardian angel! That makes so much sense.  _

_ Oops! I snooped! I didn’t mean to! _

She knew that snooping was naughty, as she’d told her Daddy the day before. Mommy would have smacked her hand. So, she held out her left hand, and smacked it hard with her right hand.

“Ow!” 

_ Maybe not that hard! That hurt! Still, I did deserve it. _

She went out in the hall and headed for the bathroom - she did remember where that was from the night before. She used the toilet and washed her hands and face, then decided there was no time like the present to start her plan, and decided to head right out of the bathroom to explore the Bunker. Maybe she would actually get lost, though she doubted it.

_ I never get lost. I always know how to find my way back. But I don’t have to tell them that. _

It wasn’t lying. She was just keeping a secret. Mommy had told her that secrets were okay, but lies weren’t.

_ I’m not lying about anything, except claiming to be lost, and I have to be lost for the plan to work, and the plan has to work, or I won’t know if I can trust them or not.  _

She thought Mommy would understand.

***

Cas, still tired from having lost the use of Lucifer’s energy, had actually slept again. He woke slowly, and shivered, then snuggled deeper under the blanket and up to Dean’s warmth. The hunter was always like a furnace, faithfully putting out BTUs of heat while he slept. Dean sleepily lifted his arm to fit Cas against him and pulled him gently closer.

“C’mere, angel. Mornin’.”

“Good morning, Dean.”

“It’s cold.”

“I believe winter may have arrived overnight, my heart. And no one bothered to tell the Bunker’s furnace.”

Dean yawned. “Well, it’s warm enough right here for the moment. I doubt Deanna’s awake already, she was worn out last night, so if we stay here and snuggle a bit, it won’t matter.”

Cas tilted his head at that, as if listening for something. “Actually, Dean, I believe Deanna is awake. And on the move.”

“On the move? What do you mean, Cas?”

“She’s exploring the Bunker, on her own.”

“Oh, great. I didn’t think to tell her not to do that last night. God only knows what she might find in this place.” Dean sat up, and shivered, but moved quickly to get dressed.

Cas followed suit, simply snapping his fingers to put on a shirt, pants, and a warm sweater. He slid his feet into his shoes, and was ready.

Dean grinned at him. “You’re so cute when you’re efficient. Do you know where she is?”

Cas nodded. “She hasn’t gotten too far, she’s still on this level.”

“Okay. Well, let’s go find our daughter. And then we need to make breakfast. I’m starving.”

Dean opened the door and held it for Cas, then followed his angel down the hall in the hunt for Deanna.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Gabe. At least he has the scooter now! ;)  
> Deanna's ethics are interesting, aren't they? She knows it's wrong to snoop, so she smacks her own hand when she does it inadvertently, but deliberately lying to test whether she can trust the new people in her life doesn't make her pause at all, because she feels it's necessary. But she debates telling Dean that her mother would have punished her for stopping the clocks, and inviting him to do so.  
> Dean and Cas are going to be good parents, though, don't you think? Cas will always know where she is, and they'll always go find her. I think she'll be trusting them sooner, rather than later. ;)
> 
> No art, sorry, still haven't had time to draw much this week.
> 
> Please comment!!! 
> 
> Also, please note that "Dean in Hell" is now up to Ch. 10, and "Sam's Therapy" includes the call on Saturday morning that he'll make after the run in this chapter. Please go read those stories as well as this one, if you are so inclined! ;)


	230. Dream Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna puts her test into action and sneaks downstairs two levels, hiding out in one of the many storerooms. Cas has her on his radar and can track where she is. Sam goes running, with Gabe accompanying him on the scooter. Cas and Dean find Deanna, and she is surprised that Dean isn't angry with her. Sam hears Gabe's stomach growing and suggests they stop for breakfast.

Deanna moved quickly and quietly down the hallway, not bothering to stop to investigate any of the rooms off to the sides. She found the stairwell, and turned into it, heading down to the next level, then shrugged and kept going to the next level after that. 

She slipped out of the stairs and back into the hallway, and discovered that this level looked almost exactly like the one she’d started on, from the hallway, at least.

She glanced around, and, seeing no one, started skipping down the hall, giggling quietly. 

***

“She’s gone downstairs,” Cas told Dean, as they quickly moved through the halls in the search for their daughter.

“You’ve still got her, though?”

“Of course, Dean. She’s yours.”

***

Sam’s mind was blessedly blank as he ran, pounding the pavement hard through town, Gabriel following (and occasionally running rings around him, when traffic was clear) on the scooter. It felt good to be out, even in the harsh cold air; fortunately, there was no wind.

_ Sam, Running Out Behind the Bunker  _

As it was, breathing in was starting to feel like razor blades against his lips.

_ Should’ve worn a scarf. Good thing I didn’t shave first, there’s a little protection there! _

Still, it felt good to be out, the endorphins flowing. And now that he didn’t have to worry about Gabe falling over, he could just put everything he was stressing out about out of his mind, and just focus on his feet falling in rhythm, and his breathing. 

***

Gabe’s mind was going a mile a minute as he followed Sam on the scooter. He patted the handlebar fondly. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t have to fly to keep up with his charge and lover, and wasn’t breathing hard within a mile of the Bunker. 

_ I really have gotta get back in shape. But for the time being, this works. I wonder if I can persuade Sam to stop for breakfast at the diner out by the highway. We’ll go right past it, anyway, and we’ve gotta eat at some point. _

He kept an eagle eye out for dangers, but saw nothing untoward. Still, he never relaxed. He’d mucked up this assignment too much as it was, he wasn’t going to allow Sam to get into any more danger if he could help it.

***

Deanna heard the stairwell door open, and ducked into a room quickly. The light in the room came on automatically, and she wandered around, looking at things on shelves, but didn’t touch anything. She didn’t want to break something accidentally, after all, she just wanted to hide for a bit longer. In the hall, she heard footsteps. She closed her eyes, and reached out mentally.

_ Oh, it’s Daddy...and Cas. Cas knows where I am, but not what I’m doing, or why. I guess I won’t be able to hide, really. Might just as well come out, except I really wanted them to have to look for me. _

***

Cas pointed at a door. Dean gestured to it to confirm, and Cas nodded. Dean pushed the door open, and saw that the light was already on inside.

“Deanna? Honey? Are you in here, baby?” he called out.

Deanna stepped around a shelving unit. “Hi, Daddy.” She lightly kicked the floor with her shoe, looking down at her feet innocently.

“Hey, baby. I need you to come back upstairs with me and Cas, okay? We’re gonna make pancakes for breakfast, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Dean smiled at her.

Deanna looked up at her father, something like hope gleaming in her eyes. “You’re... not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you, honey?” Dean asked.

“For...wandering around? By myself? And getting a little bit lost?”

“Well, sweetie, I wish you wouldn’t wander around by yourself in the Bunker, because there are some dangerous things stored here that you really shouldn’t get into without an adult around; you could get hurt. And it’s a big place, and you could get lost. But we would always find you, and you didn’t know that you shouldn’t do it, because we hadn’t set any rules for you yet, so, no, you’re not in trouble, baby. I’m just glad that you’re okay.” Dean knelt down and opened his arms, and Deanna ran into them for a hug. He lifted her up, and the three of them headed back upstairs together.

***

_ Time to head back. I’m not really done, but I can hear Gabe’s stomach growling from here _ .

Amused, Sam looked at his watch - also suddenly working again - when he got to the marker he’d surreptitiously placed at mile 16 of the 30-mile route he’d staked out. He slowed, then jogged in place until Gabe caught up on the scooter. 

“Hey, baby, you hungry? I thought we could stop at the diner and get breakfast, if you like,” he told the Archangel.

Gabriel’s face brightened considerably. “Starving, actually. But you usually hate stopping with five miles still to go, so I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Sam grinned. “Hon, I can hear your tummy rumbling. No way you were making it all the way back to the Bunker without something to snack on, at least. So, we can either stop at the bakery, or we can get actual food. And I know how you feel about the bakery.”

Gabriel snorted in derision. “I really ought to open my own bakery in town and show the folks around here what a real baker can do. I’d put that place out of business within three months.”

Sam nodded. “Right, so, diner it is. And when we get home, we look at the finances, and see if there’s a storefront for sale that we can afford.”

Gabriel’s jaw dropped. “Wait… what?”

“I believe in you. More importantly, I believe in your muffins and cookies. You’re right, your baked goods put the bakery in town’s to shame, and you’d be a worthy competitor. So, let’s do it.”

“You… you want to help me start a bakery in town?” Gabriel looked dazed.

“Yeah, baby. It’s your dream, right? Well, why not do it, then? I’m with you, all the way.” Sam smiled softly.

“Samshine… I don’t know what to say. No one has ever… Not even my brothers would have...well, except for Cas, but… Are you sure you want to do this?”

“One hundred percent.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's in such a loving and supportive mood this morning, hmm? ;)
> 
> Art! ;D
> 
> Please, please comment and let me know you're still following along!   
> (And that you're actually seeing when I post - I put this up and it started out in the middle of page six, rather than at the top of p.1! WTF?)
> 
> [Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Election crapola going on, plus more doc visits. Just found out that sometime before the end of the year, I have to have surgery to repair a hernia that's not yet strangulated but may be on its way there, and within the next five months, I have to have a benign (non-cancerous) tumor removed from my right thigh. I had one removed from my left thigh in March 2018, it weighed 30 pounds; the one on my right thigh now is about half that size, but I'd really rather it not get there! And, because I've been on disability for the past two years, suddenly now I qualified for Medicare starting 2/1, which completely screwed up our budget planning for healthcare, and now I'm having to figure out how Medicare Advantage plans work. It's probably ultimately a good thing, but trying to figure out what I'll have to pay out of pocket for the second surgery is a nightmare. But hopefully that'll be the last surgery for awhile! With all of that going on, I haven't had time or energy to sit down and write for a bit here. Don't worry, I am NOT abandoning this! I know exactly where I'm taking this, and what the end game looks there, even though it's not written yet!]


	231. Star Charts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabe make a discovery. Dean makes pancakes. Malachai and Delilah find each other. Dean and Deanna chat about her behavior and rules going forward.

On their way through town toward the diner, Sam and Gabe had to pass the bakery. They discovered, to Gabe’s delight, that it was...gone. A sign on the door of the storefront where the bakery had been said that the owners had moved to Smith Center, a slightly larger town that was nearly 15 miles away, to the west of Lebanon. It wasn’t so far that someone who’d liked their products wouldn’t get in the car and drive there, if they had to, but it also wasn’t somewhere someone in town could just do a quick run-in for a cookie on their afternoon break, either. 

Gabe grinned from ear to ear. Sam pulled out his phone and made a note of the realty company’s information on the “For Sale or Rent” sign in the window.

“We’ll call when we get home. C’mon, let’s get to the diner and get some food in us. I’m hungry myself now, too.” Sam smiled at Gabe, who was obviously giddy. “And don’t fall off the scooter!”

Gabe just laughed and tried to pop a wheelie in the middle of Kansas Avenue, which he had to abort quickly when a farmer in a pick up truck had to swerve to avoid hitting him. The farmer yelled at him out the window, but Gabe just made a quick “oops, my bad” face, and then started laughing again.

***

Dean made pancakes and sang along with the radio, while Cas poured coffee for each of them, and orange juice for Deanna. Deanna sat at the kitchen table, and watched both of them, charmed. She laughed happily, as Dean used the wooden spoon as the “microphone” and swooped to one knee before her to sing directly to her.

_ “I've got sunshine on a cloudy day; / When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May. / Well, I guess you'd say, / What can make me feel this way? / My girl (my girl, my girl). / Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl).” _

And then, as the Temptations sang, “ooh, ooooh,” Dean sang, “Deaaaana” instead, and she giggled.

“You’re silly, Daddy.”

Dean booped her nose, went back to making pancakes, and continued to sing.

_ “I've got so much honey, the bees envy me. / I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees. / Well, I guess you'd say, / What can make me feel this way? / My girl (my girl, my girl). / Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl), ooh.” _

He brought a platter heaped with pancakes to the table, and Cas brought plates and silverware, then turned and got the coffee and orange juice he’d already poured and brought those over as well. Dean served Deanna with three pancakes and helped her to pour the syrup, but she said she knew how to cut them up properly, so he just observed for a moment to make sure she really could. When he was satisfied that his daughter was apparently a genius (Sam hadn’t been able to cut up his pancakes without making a mess until he was eight, but Dean thought that might have been Sam’s tiny bit of rebellion, too), he turned to his own stack, and Cas followed suit.

***

Somewhere between the depths below the Pit and the upper level of the Throne Room, Malachai and Delilah found each other. Delilah knew her mate at once, of course, but frowned at the black goop he was dripping everywhere. 

“Really, Malachai? How many millennia since the explosion, and you still don’t have a solid form that doesn’t leak?”

“Now, Delilah, my love. I know you’ve just awakened, but do we really need the early morning grumpiness? There was someone I needed to intimidate, and this form worked nicely. But for you, my dear...” Malachai smiled and obligingly changed to his original form, the one he’d worn when they’d first fallen in love: that of a charming older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a Van Dyke beard, wearing a sharp three-piece suit. 

He bowed elaborately, and held out his arm to Delilah. “My lady, would you care to accompany me?”

“To where, Malachai? Where can we even go?” Delilah sighed softly.

“Well, to breakfast, for one thing. You can’t tell me you’re not ravenously hungry after such a long sleep, my darling. And I know just the place.”

_ Malachai, in his original form for Delilah  _

***

After breakfast, Dean started running the water for a load of dishes.

“Daddy? I need to tell you something.”

“What’s that, peanut?” Dean asked, over his shoulder.

“Mommy would have punished me. For the clocks. I think. And I think you should, too.” Deanna’s voice was very small.

Dean turned off the water, and stood stock still for a moment, starting at the sink. Then he turned, walked over to the table, and knelt in front of his daughter.

“Baby, I’m not going to punish you for that. I _will_ ask that you not do that again, and that if you do think about doing something  _ like _ that, you come and talk to me or Cas about it, first. But I understand why you did it, sweetpea. And as frustrating and scary as it was not to know what time it was, I don’t blame you a bit, baby.”

“But I misused my powers. That’s my point, Daddy. I _knew_ it was naughty when I did it. But I knew that Mommy wasn’t in any shape to notice, or to punish me if she did, and I just wanted to… I just wanted to…” Deanna bit her lip, hard, trying to choke back tears.

“I know, baby. C’mere.” Dean pulled her into a gentle hug. “You just wanted to be with her as long as you could. I know, baby, I know. Shhh, now, shhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Deanna wasn’t able to maintain the vicious control over her emotions after that, and she sobbed in Dean’s arms. He picked her up, sat in the chair and cuddled her in his lap, murmuring comfortingly.

Eventually, the flood subsided. Dean took a paper napkin, and gently wiped his daughter’s face, then had her blow her nose.

When she’d calmed a bit, Deanna looked up at him. “You really _should_ punish me. And I think we should set rules. Now. Today. I need to know when I’m misbehaving, and so do you. And I need to know that there will be consequences for my actions if I do.”

“You sound so grown up. I don’t remember ever even thinking that as a child, and I know Sam never asked for anything like it.” Dean sighed. 

“Okay. I’m not going to punish you for the clocks. You knew it was naughty, but you’ve already had your consequence: you don’t have your mother anymore. It’s not a direct result of anything you did, but I think losing her has punished you enough. You were just trying to hold on to as much of her as you could, and I’m not going to punish you for that. 

“So. Rules. Rule number 1: your mother’s rules still apply. _You_ know them, even if I don’t. If you think she would have punished you for doing something, don’t do it. Okay?”

Deanna nodded. “I could tell you Mommy’s rules, Daddy. There weren’t that many.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Rule 1: don’t abuse your powers. Like I told you before, sometimes I can’t help getting an impression of something from someone, especially if it’s important to them in that moment, and that’s okay, because I can’t help that. But I can’t go snooping in someone else’s head just because I want to know what they know; that’s wrong, and Mommy would have slapped the back of my hand for it.”

Deanna held up her hand to show Dean, and he saw that she had a small bruise forming.

“Deanna? What’s this bruise? Did someone hurt you?” he asked.

“I did that. I snooped on Gabriel.” Deanna hung her head.

“When?” Dean asked, blankly.

“This morning. Uncle Sam and Gabriel were in the hallway, and I could hear them talking, and I just dipped in a little, and found out something I don’t think I’m supposed to know. So, I smacked my hand.”

“What did you find out?”

“That Gabriel is Uncle Sam’s guardian angel. It’s this big thing inside his head. And it’s weird, because it’s not exactly a _secret_ , he _told_ Uncle Sam that he was his guardian angel; but I think there’s something more to it, that I don’t understand, because he feels _guilty_ about it. Why would an Archangel feel guilty, Daddy?”

“I don’t know, baby. So, you dipped into Gabriel’s mind, and that was snooping, and you knew it was against your mother’s rules, so you did what, exactly?” Dean asked.

“I slapped the back of my hand, like Mommy would have, if she had been here. I think I did it a little harder than I meant to,” Deanna said, ruefully, looking at the small bruise.

“Yes, no more bruising yourself, baby.” Dean rubbed his face with one hand slowly, thinking.

“Okay. No more ‘dipping,’ unless you can’t control it, like you were talking about earlier. But I’m not comfortable with smacking you, not even your hand, baby. Have you ever heard of a star chart?”

Deanna looked up, curious. “No. What’s that, Daddy?”

“We make a chart, we give you chores and things to do right, and when you do them, and do them well, you get a star on your chart. If you do something naughty, you lose a star; if you're _really_ naughty, you might lose a bunch of them. At the end of the week, or the end of the month, or however often we decide, you can use the stars you’ve acquired to purchase a treat. If you’ve been naughty, your treat won’t be very good, because you won’t have enough stars. But if you’ve been good, and done everything you were supposed to do, you’ll have a lot of stars, and you’ll be able to get something you really want. How does that sound?”

Deanna tilted her head slightly, considering. “It sounds like you’re bribing me to behave well, Daddy. I should behave well because it’s the right thing to do, not because I’ll be treated for it.”

“Well, but punishing you when you’re naughty has the same effect. It’s saying ‘I won’t punish you if you don’t misbehave.’ Isn’t that bribery, too?” Dean looked very solemn.

“Well, yes, and no. I’d say punishing bad behavior teaches that actions have consequences.”

“Well, and so do good actions - good actions have good consequences.” Dean grinned, now, and Deanna grinned back.

“Okay, that makes sense, Daddy. Star chart, it is.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabe's getting a bakery.... Mmmm. ;)  
> Dean, singing to his baby girl.... *sniffle*  
> Delilah does seem a tad miffed. But hey, Malachai can look pretty debonair when he wants to, eh? ;)  
> Deanna is so adult sometimes for a four-year old. She'd get along well with Amy, wouldn't she? Hmmm. ;)
> 
> Art!
> 
> Please comment!!!!


	232. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang start to piece together the Origin Story with what they know of Malachai and Delilah from the various sources available to them. Malachai and Delilah go to breakfast, then to meet a family member. Dean acts as Deanna's pack mule at the mall and waits while she goes to the bathroom. While in the restroom, Deanna calls Hank and Gray and tells them she's made up her mind. Hank and Gray go out to the parking lot and possess two teenage boys to chat.

That afternoon, Dean took Deanna shopping - she still needed far more clothes, particularly warm clothes for winter; he wanted her to pick out some toys and new books; and they needed supplies for the Star Chart - while Cas stayed back to talk to Gabriel and Rowena about the problems she’d been having in Hell. 

Kathy walked through the War Room on her way to the kitchen in the middle of that discussion. She heard them talking about Malachai and Delilah, and thought of the weird text Chuck had written on her laptop after “Light” had left him, before Cas and Gabe came to get them. Chuck had seemingly forgotten about it, but she’d read it the next morning. She went and got the laptop and brought it to Cas, right around the time when Sam came in to ask Gabe about something to do with a bakery, if she’d heard correctly. Once Cas had read the text that Kathy showed to him, Cas called Sam over.

“Sam? Do you have that report that Shann wrote for you? Could I take another look at it?” 

“Hmm? Oh, sure, Cas, hang on, I’ll go grab it.” Sam went to the library and got the report, and jogged back into the War Room with it. 

Cas compared Shann’s translation of the mysterious “dream” text from the epilogue to the book from the alternate universe, against Chuck’s text, and found them to be almost identical. 

“Sam, could you call Shann and ask him to come in? I know he’s been working a lot, but I think we’ll need him for a bit.” Cas sighed softly.

Sam nodded, and made the call. “He’ll be here in about a half-hour.”

Cas looked at Kathy. “You say Chuck seemed to have forgotten this once it was written?” He indicated the laptop’s screen.

Kathy nodded. “Yup. Once it was on the screen, it was like it was out of him, and didn’t matter to him anymore.”

“Sounds like a prophet,” Gabe said.

Cas agreed. “I think we should talk to him anyway. Could you get him, Kathy?”

Kathy nodded and headed off toward Chuck’s room.

“What’s all this, now, Castiel?” Rowena asked. 

***

Malachai got Delilah some clothes not made of lava, raiding Rowena’s closet; they weren’t an exact fit, but it was close enough, and at least Delilah wouldn’t set furniture on fire. 

Then he took Delilah to a place in downtown Baghdad called Restaurant Beeston Samad, well known in the area for its excellent breakfast food. The fact that it happened to be next door to Marduk’s shop had nothing to do with it. At least, not until after they had eaten. Then he steered her into the shop, and smiled softly when she recognized her great-great-great-grandson. 

“Oh. Marduk? Can it be?” She reached one hand toward him, but hesitated.

Marduk reached for it, and took her hand in his. “Namma. You’re awake.” He looked over at Malachai. “Pappy. It’s been a long time.”

Malachai nodded. Delilah moved to give Marduk a hug. 

“How are you? Your parents, are they…?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Namma. But they’re gone, have been for a long time. They didn’t have the gene. Really, there are only a few of us left who do.” 

Delilah nodded. “A long time for you, but a fresh grief for me. I shouldn’t have slept so long.”

“I have a surprise for you, Namma. Can you wait a few minutes? I’ll make a call.” Marduk smiled at her.

Delilah looked to Malachai, who nodded. 

“We can wait, Marduk. We have all the time in the world.”

Marduk got his cell phone out and dialed.

***

As he’d fully expected, Dean was the pack mule in this expedition. He was carrying a large number of bags from a variety of stores. He had to admit most of the weight was his own fault, as Deanna was cautious and careful in her choices, and wouldn’t have bought most of it, had it been up to her alone, but he kept pushing, gently, for her to get what she  _ wanted _ , as well as what she just needed. He’d missed out on four years of indulging his daughter, so he thought he could be excused. 

“Daddy? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hmm. Okay, let’s find it, then.” Dean steered her over to a women’s restroom. “Are you all right to go in on your own, and I’ll just wait here?”

Deanna nodded. “I’m good.” She disappeared into the restroom.

Dean spotted a bench and sat down, carefully depositing the bags on the floor at his feet, all the while watching the restroom door like a hawk.

***

The restroom was empty. It was small, but at the far end, it did have a window that opened. Deanna opened it, concentrated for a moment, then waited.

Within a few moments, two wisps of black smoke slithered through the window, and bobbed in the air in front of Deanna, as if bowing.

“I’ve decided. I’m not giving you my Daddy. He’s good, and nice, and I trust him. So you can go on back to Hell, and thank you for your time.”

Deanna listened for a moment, then laughed. “No. But it might interest you to know, if you didn’t already, that Rowena’s staying at the Bunker, with us, at the moment. So, go on back to Hell, and I guess do your worst. I’m sure once she gets back down there, you’ll be deposed in less than a heartbeat. She’s a smart lady. But you don’t get to stay, and you don’t get my Daddy.”

Deanna’s face took on a determined look, and she raised her hand out in front of her. The black wisps turned gray, then almost white. One started to dissolve completely. Then Deanna lowered her hand slowly, and the wisps appeared to shiver in relief. 

“Remember. I can  _ send  _ you to Hell, if you won’t go on your own. I suggest you do. Because if I see you again, it won’t be Hell, but the Empty, that will be your destination.”

The wisps escaped out the window.

Deanna smiled, and slipped into a stall quickly. Might as well make the excuse true. She really didn’t like feeling like she was lying to her Daddy.

***

The wisps found two teenaged boys in a car in the parking lot, and took them over.

_ Hank and Gray  _

“Damn it, Gray! I told you not to go getting big ideas! She could kill us! She has the power. And it’s not like killing demons doesn’t run in that family, for fuck’s sake! Her Uncle Sam could kill them with his mind - he killed Lilith!”

“Yes, Hank, I’m aware.” 

Where Hank sounded frantic, Gray sounded bored. 

“Why don’t you sound like this matters to you? You wanna be hunted by her?” Hank asked.

“Hank, she’s not going to hunt us. She’s a _little girl_. Dean Winchester ain’t taking her out demon hunting, no matter what kind of power she has. Get real. If he knew she’d even been talking to us, she’d likely get her butt blistered, if he’s anything like his dad, or mine. No. That ain’t happenin’. And _Sam_ Winchester? He ain’t killed a demon with his powers in years. Lilith might’ve been the last one, so far as I know. I ain’t heard of him doing it since then. With that knife Ruby gave him, sure, but not with his mind. So, I ain’t worryin’ none about him, either. 

"Now, if what the brat said is true, and Rowena really _is_ at the Bunker, and not in Hell, then I say we go downstairs, and figure out who’s trying to fill the power vacuum. And if the answer’s no one, I say I fill it. And you support me. And we take what  _ we  _ want for a change. 

"You with me, Hank? Or no? Decide.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Gray. Tsk, tsk, tsk. *shakes head*  
> Deanna seems to be done testing Dean. ;)  
> The restaurant to which Malachai took Delilah is a real place. Marduk's shop, obviously, is not. ;)
> 
> Art!
> 
> Comments? Please?? :D
> 
> I know I've been away for a bit, but there was the election, and then more election, and then MORE election, and then the doc messed with my meds and the new stuff had me sleeping 20 hours/day, and we just got that sorted...and the finale frankly sapped my will to write for awhile there. *sigh* I'm just going with they never filmed anything after S15E18 because of the pandemic, and leaving it at that. And this is a rewrite of S15 anyway. So, there. So, sorry for the delay, hopefully I'll be back in the swing of things a bit more often now. ;)


	233. Eat Your Carrots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marduk surprises Delilah and Malachai with another family member. Dean and Deanna return to the Bunker; Rowena takes Deanna off to the kitchen to get something to eat, while Sam plugs Dean into the reports about "Origin Story" to get him caught up. Rowena and Deanna have a chat over PB&J sandwiches and cut-up carrots.

Malachai and Delilah were in the back of Marduk’s shop, chatting quietly, while Marduk helped a customer who had come in while they were there waiting for Marduk’s “surprise” to arrive. They heard the door’s bells chiming as someone entered or left the shop once, then again a few moments later. Then Marduk stuck his head through the beads he had hung between the front of the shop and the back area.

“Namma? Pappy? C’mon back up front. There’s someone here you’ll want to see.” He smiled.

Delilah moved quickly over to the beads, then looked back at Malachai. Malachai smiled softly at her. “Go on, then.”

She moved through the beads, and looked around. She saw a young-looking man, standing next to Marduk, their arms on each others’ shoulders companionably. She looked more closely at his face, and recognized another one of her descendants - her great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson, Tiamat. 

“Tia?”

“Namma! You're up, finally!” Tiamat smiled, came over to her, and gave her a hug.

Malachai looked over at Marduk, and mouthed, “Thank you,” to him. Marduk nodded, grinning.

Delilah hugged back, but then leaned back and looked at Tiamat’s face. “So...the two of you… not fighting anymore, I take it, then?”

“No, Namma,” Tia laughed. “We’re together. As in, _together_ , together. Have been for a long time, now.” He showed her the ring on his left hand. “We’re all official, and everything.”

“Oh, I”m so glad you boys put your differences aside. So, who else is left, then?” she asked, tremulously, a little afraid of the answer.

“Everyone with the double-gene, like us, obviously. We _can’t_ die, as _you_ would know best, Namma. We’re pretty spread out. We don’t really get together often; some of them don’t even believe in genetics, still,” Tia told her, laughing. “Humans didn’t even discover genes until just this past century. So, those of us who walk amongst them try to...blend in, now, for the most part. Or live apart completely, one or the other. Marduk and I, obviously, blend. A few with the _single_ gene are still around, as well; they seem to be _immortal_ , but not _invincible_ \- they don’t die under natural causes, but can be killed, if you find the right means to do it. Loki and his boys were in that group, and were killed just a couple of years ago.”

Delilah nodded. “I see Light’s toys have flourished.”

Tiamat laughed. “Indeed. If they know of us, and believe that we ever existed at all - we encourage the belief that we’re just myths from the distant past - they think we’re Gods, or demi-Gods, of pagan religions. They give us very little thought at all.”

Marduk came over, and led Delilah to a chair, waving Malachai into another.

“You two should know, there’s been a development in the genetic area,” he told them. “Amara and I don’t talk often, but we did have a chat recently, and she confirmed it. It appears that the humans, in a line that descends from the ones Light created directly, as opposed to those who evolved from his other creations, have realized a potential, one that was always possible, but only very few humans have ever developed it fully. Specifically, two of them, brothers. They have the _double_ gene, Namma. But, interestingly, they _have_ died, each of them, several times - it’s just that they always come _back_ . Within minutes or hours, but they never die _permanently_ \- and yet neither of them has realized that they’re anything special, genetically. They don’t suspect a thing. 

“They think that all the times they’ve been brought back, it was someone doing something to make it happen - Light, or a demon, or Death - and frankly, I think they’ve been _allowed_ to think that. _Encouraged_ , even. But one of Light’s angel creations is close to the brothers, and I think _he_ might suspect something. Amara said he’d been asking questions, and she’d done her best to be as vague as possible, and had not mentioned genetics to him, at all.”

***

Dean and Deanna, having dropped her numerous bags at her room to be put away later, after a bite to eat and checking in with the rest of the Bunker’s inhabitants, wandered into the War Room to find everyone busily reading or chatting about something. Everyone, including Shann, though it was supposed to have been his day off. Dean was surprised, to say the least.

“Hey, Sammy, what’s up?” he asked his brother.

“Hey, Dean, hey, Deanna,” Sam greeted them, with a smile. “There’s been some developments while you were out, Dean. Need you to take a look at a couple of things, get your input.”

“Yeah, let me just get something for Deanna to eat.”

“I’ll handle that, Dean, dear,” Rowena told him. “I wanted an opportunity to chat more with Miss Deanna here, anyway.” Rowena winked at Deanna, making the little girl giggle, then she looked up at Dean and smiled encouragingly, as she led the child away to the kitchen.

“Did I just let the Queen of Hell take my daughter to get something to eat?” Dean asked no one.

Sam laughed quietly. “Yeah, c’mon, Ro’s not gonna hurt her. C’mere and take a look at these texts, it’s interesting.”

Dean doubted that he’d find ancient texts as interesting as Sam, but he allowed his brother to lead him over to the Map Table, where a laptop sat open with words up on the screen, and a couple of stacks of paper sat next to it.

“What am I looking at, exactly, Sammy?”

“It’s _Sam_.” Sam looked slightly annoyed, but then continued. “Okay, so what’s on the laptop is Chuck - the prophet - writing down something that came to him shortly after Light - God - deserted his vessel, for parts unknown. This set of papers here is Shann’s translation of a dream recorded by a Spanish philosopher in an alternate universe. The two are nearly identical, and appear to tell the story of the Cosmic Entity that’s been running the Empty, who now appears to have taken over Hell, and his mate. Chuck calls it ‘Origin Story.’ You should sit down, and read it, Dean. Take a few minutes, get caught up with the rest of us.”

Dean nodded and sat down to read. While he was normally the more action-oriented of the two brothers, he’d done his time with research, and reading had never bothered him. With the confidence in his own intelligence that Mia and Cas had given him lately, he no longer felt even slightly intimidated by the idea of contributing to a scholarly discussion, even though he had no more education than his GED, and he was starting to think that maybe he should look into going back to school, getting a degree, setting an example for his daughter. But then he shook his head, needing to focus, and turned to the laptop to read what Chuck had written. 

***

Rowena quickly made a couple of PB&J sandwiches, and cut up some carrots. She arranged them on two plates, and got two glasses of milk, and brought them over to the table, where Deanna was waiting.

“Rowena? Can I ask you something?” Deanna looked up at the witch with an earnest expression that made Rowena’s heart melt.

“Of course, child. What is it?”

“I can trust Daddy, can’t I? I mean, really trust him, to love me, forever?” Deanna looked like she’d been worried about this for a while, and the maternal side of Rowena, which she had almost always crushed like a bug, came to the fore.

“Yes, darlin’. Your Daddy’s one of the good ones. He’s strong and true, like the heroes of old. But don’t tell him I said so,” Rowena winked.

Deanna giggled.

“I won’t tell him that, either,” came a deep and gravelly voice from the doorway.

“Castiel.” Rowena acknowledged his presence.

“Rowena.” Cas nodded at her, then smiled. “For the record, I agree with your assessment. Dean is, indeed, ‘one of the good ones.’ I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just need to get a cup of coffee.” Cas moved quickly to do just that, pouring a cup then doctoring it quickly. “I’ll get out of your way, so the two of you can talk.” 

Deanna waited until he’d left. “I can trust Castiel, too, right?”

Rowena nodded. “Yes. The angel is one of the good ones, too. Your uncle, Samuel, and Gabriel, as well. No one here would harm you, darlin’. Not ever.”

“No, I didn’t think they’d harm me. I’m not sure they _could_ harm me, in any way that mattered; not physically, at least. I just want to know if I can trust them to _love_ me.” Deanna’s voice was very small and quiet. “My aunt...she tried, but she just couldn’t. Mommy was so sick for so long, and she did her best, but…”

“But it’s been a long time since you had someone on whom you could rely completely, and you want to be sure that Dean, your Daddy, is that person, before you open your heart to him? Is that it, dear?” Rowena smiled softly, sympathetically.

Deanna nodded, her eyes large and shiny with unshed tears.

“He is. I can tell you that for certain-sure. Dean protects the ones he loves. He’s a care-taker, he gives and gives and gives. In fact, I want you to make me a promise. I want you to promise me that you’ll try to give back to him as much love as he gives to you. He needs someone to love him, unconditionally, just as much as you need him. Really, darlin’, you can trust him with your heart, but you need to let him trust you with his, as well.”

Deanna considered that. “That makes sense, Rowena. I can see that in him, now that you point it out. Thank you.”

“Of course, dear. I’ve known your father, and your uncle, for many years now, and while we haven’t always been on the same side, they have consistently been among the best men I’ve ever known.

"Now, eat your carrots.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter's taken me awhile. I know where I want to go with the story, but I've been having trouble getting there. I wrote this, then rewrote it, then rewrote it again. I think it's what I want now, so, here 'tis.
> 
> So, Rowena's vouching for Dean - ever think that would happen, back when they first met? lol  
> Remember that Death told Billie that Sam and Dean couldn't die? Marduk's telling Delilah and Malachai that they have the same "double gene" that causes invincibility and immortality - the literal inability to die - that's present in their own family....and that Amara told him. 
> 
> No art, as this was already running a little long as it was, and I wanted to get it out to you without making you wait while I drew something for it!
> 
> Please comment!!
> 
> Also, lovely readers, I've been dreaming again, and my dreams gave me a weird little story idea. It's not in this series, but please check out Two Nuns Talking - you can find Chapter one here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667871/chapters/70277250. I don't know for sure yet, but I think that one will end up just 3-5 chapters long. I could be wrong. LOL 
> 
> Finally, remember when Misha followed me on Twitter a few months back, and I totally fangirled out over it? Well, *Mark Sheppard* is now following me, too, and I'm geeking out over that nearly as much! Eep!


	234. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna gets on the road to the Bunker. Jody gets on the road from the Bunker to head home. Dean and Cas have a chat.

Donna finished packing her suitcase and duffel, and loaded them into the back of her truck. Then she made one more pass through the house, making sure she’d turned off the oven, the doors were locked, and nothing else was likely to cause a disaster while she was away.

She locked the side door as she exited the house, then got in the truck, and made herself go through her mental checklist one final time as she sat in the driveway.

Finally, sure now that she was just being paranoid, she nodded once, decisively, and started the truck. She backed out of the driveway, and got on the road.

She didn’t notice the police cruiser sitting on the road about a block back from her driveway; it was behind her, and with her department’s excellent funding, it wasn’t unusual for deputies to just drive around to patrol and then park for a bit of a break alongside a stretch of road. 

But had she noticed, and looked, she’d have seen that it wasn’t one of  _ her  _ department’s cruisers. 

It was one of Doug’s.

***

Jody finished repacking her things, and Dean came to carry her bag out to the garage for her, just to be polite. 

“You’ve really got to go, Jodes?” he asked.

“Yup, I have to be at work tomorrow, and I have to get back to Amy and Alex; Alex has work, too, and Amy has… well, I need to be around, that’s all there is to that.

“Claire can stay awhile if she likes; she’ll probably want to use your firing range to practice, and I think it’s good for her to hang out with Cas now and then. Cas can fly her up, or you can bring her with you next time you drive up to Sioux Falls. Give it another week or so, and the Fibbies should be gone, it’ll be safe for you to show your handsome face around town again.” Jody grinned at Dean, as he blushed to the tips of his ears. “Aww, c’mon, you know you’re gorgeous.”

Dean laughed. “I really don’t, but thanks. If nothing else, you’re good for my ego.”

“Oh, is  _ that _ what I’m good for?” Jody smirked. 

“Well, it’s not the only thing.” Dean grinned, as he put her bag in her trunk, and closed the trunk over it for her.

“C’mere.” Jody opened her arms, and Dean stepped over for a hug, hugging back tightly.

“Thanks, Jody. For getting Deanna for me, for spending time with her. It means a lot. Really.” Dean stepped back slowly.

“Dean, of course. She’s beautiful, and she’s yours, and you were right, that child does  _ not  _ belong in the system. She needs her family. You, and Sam, and Castiel.”

“And you, and Donna, and the girls.” Dean countered. 

Jody nodded, solemnly. “And us, yes. And whoever else you can cobble together. But  _ not _ her Aunt. Whoo! That woman was bad news.”

“She didn’t seem that bad on the phone, but I know what you mean, with what you told me about what she said, she wasn’t good for Deanna long term.”

“Not even short term. Some people shouldn’t be around children, and she’s one of them. Not that she would have physically harmed Deanna, just that her attitude was so off-putting. Deanna knew she wasn’t loved, and that’s a child who  _ needs  _ to be loved. She’s special, Dean. You take good care of her. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah. Will do. You’d better get on the road, if you have to work tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Jody opened the car door and slid into the vehicle. She rolled the window down as she closed the door. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Jodes?”

“You have a  _ daughter _ .”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, I do.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart.” Jody grinned back. “Now open the garage door and let me out, please?”

Dean laughed and hit the garage remote to open the door for her. Jody backed out of the space, waved, and drove out.

Dean watched after the car for a moment, then closed the garage door, and sighed softly. He turned and headed back into the Bunker.

***

Dean found Cas in their shared bedroom.

“Hey, Cas, can we talk for a sec?”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas sat up and looked nervously attentive.

“Oh, hey, it’s nothing bad, Angel. You don’t need to worry. I just had a thought and wanted to ask you about it. When we were looking for Deanna this morning, you said that you could track her because she’s mine. I want to know what you meant by that.”

“Well, she’s your daughter. She stands out to me, as a result.” Cas said, slowly.

“You can tell that she’s my daughter. Like, sort of an angelic DNA test?” Dean asked.

“Not exactly, but close enough, I suppose,” Cas agreed.

“Well, then, Cas, I need to ask. You saw Ben. Could you tell with him, as well? Lisa always denied that he was my kid, said she’d had testing done that proved it; but Mia pointed out that after just a one-night stand, and without asking for anything to use as a sample, it was unlikely that Lisa had anything with my DNA to compare to in order to have such testing done. But if you could just look at him, and know… Well, could you?” Dean’s voice broke a little at the end.

Cas smiled softly. “Yes, I could tell. And yes, Dean, Ben was yours, too.” Cas patted the space on the bed next to him, and Dean nearly fell down onto it, needing to be close to his angel. Cas pulled Dean in tight, and held him, as Dean’s face crumpled and the tears fell.

“What have I done, Cas? I asked you to erase my own son’s memories of me.” 

Cas cleared his throat gently. “Ahem. Um. About that….”

Dean sat up, and leaned back, looking at Cas’ face, which was taking on a surprisingly guilty look.

“Cas…?”

“I did as you asked, Dean. I erased you from Lisa and Ben’s memories. But….”

“But?”

“But you never asked me to erase you from the memories of their neighbors. There were plenty of reminders of you in their house, as well. They forgot you, but it didn’t… last.”

“Cas…. How could you? And you let me believe it was permanent? They’ve been in danger all this time? What the _hell_ , Cas?” Dean rose and began to pace the floor.

“No, Dean. They’re not in any danger. I waited a couple of weeks, then when I judged they’d probably had enough reminders that they were very confused, I went to visit them. I explained to Lisa that you had felt the need to protect them, to get them out of the life, and safe from monsters, and thought that erasing you was the only way to do that. I gave her my cell phone number, told her to call if there was ever any hint of danger from a supernatural threat of any kind. I’ve checked back in with her now and then to be sure that they’re all right. And they are, Dean. They’re fine. I promise you. Lisa understood. I let her explain things to Ben, and he’s fine, as well. They adjusted, they’re safe from threats, they’re fine, Dean, I promise you.”

“Cas. That wasn’t our understanding. I asked you to do something very specific, and you said that you would, that you  _ had _ . You never told me the rest of this, never let me know that they know about me, you hid this from me, and you lied. Cas, what the hell, man? How am I supposed to trust you, now? Yet another thing you did on your own, without thinking of the repercussions. _God dammit, Cas_!” 

“Dean, it wasn’t like that.”

“No? Because that’s exactly how it looks from where I’m standing, Cas. You decided. You made the arrangements, in secret. You’ve been in contact with them, without telling me. You hid this from me. You had no right, Cas,” Dean shook his head. “No. I thought we’d made so much progress. I thought we were in a good place. But I don’t know how to forgive this, Cas. I don’t know how to let this go.”

“Dean… I’m sorry. I didn’t see it from your perspective. I saw a need, and I filled it. I took care of a situation, and I did so personally because I knew how important Lisa and Ben were - are - to you. I made sure they were safe, that they knew that you still cared, and I did it, all of it, for you, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. But somewhere along the line, Cas, you decided, unilaterally, that this was what should happen. You didn’t come to me, and say, ‘hey, there’s a problem, they remember you and are confused, but here’s a plan on how to take care of it, and I’ll handle everything personally, you won’t have to endanger them again,’ you just did what you thought best. And I can see that, Cas, I really can. I know you did what you did because you care. But it’s just another time where you went behind my back, and I thought we were done with that, man. I’ve been really trusting you, thought we were making such progress, and now I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. I feel like my foundation has been shaken, and I don’t know how to get past that.”

Cas nodded, slowly. “I see my error now, Dean, but of course, now’s too late. So, what...are you breaking up with me, then? Because I realize that I’ve let you down….”

“What? No. Cas.” Dean sighed and sat down on the bed again, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I’m unhappy, I’m mad, I’m disappointed, and that’s going to affect how I feel about you for a while. But I’m not breaking up with you, okay? Look, someone once told me that romantic love is a choice, one you have to make every single day. You don’t just give up on it, you fight for it, even when you’re fighting with the person that you love. And Mia’s shown me that the way to do that is by talking, by having honest communication, by letting everything inside you out and letting that person see why you’re upset. You don’t hold it all in, and let it fester. Okay? 

“That’s where we’ve always gone wrong in the past, I held too much in, and let it fester. I’m not going to do that anymore. I told you, I don’t want to hurt you. Am I pissed off? Yeah. But I get why you did what you did, and I still love you, Cas. I’m just mad. And I’ll be mad for a while, and you’ll have to deal with me being mad at you. But I’m making my choice to love you through it, and I hope you’ll do the same.”

Cas breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course, Dean.”

“We should probably add this to the list of things we need to talk about with Mia. I’ll put it in my journal, if that’s all right with you?”

“Dean, you can always write whatever you feel you need to write in your journal. That’s what it’s for. You don’t need my permission to write about us, or me, or being upset with me, not ever. And if you don’t want me to read what you’ve written, I’ve told you already that I’ll respect your privacy. I only read your journal because you asked me to, and I won’t read more without another express invitation to do so.”

Dean sighed and leaned against Cas. “You don’t need to do that, Angel. I think just by having this conversation, and letting it all out like I did, I defused the anger. I feel it draining out of me already. I think this was productive.”

“Yes. You’ve made a lot of progress on your anger management issues, love. I think Mia will be proud of you when you tell her about this on Tuesday.”

“I’m sorry that I blew up at you, Cas. You did what you thought was right. The way you did it behind my back wasn’t optimal, but I get it. I’m still mad, but I don’t think it’s going to last very long.”

Cas smiled. “Dean, I know my revelation about their memories coming back short-circuited the conversation, but I do feel a need to point out: you have a son.”

Dean sat up straight. “Oh. Right. I do, don’t I? And he… knows?”

“He remembers who you were to him. I don’t know if Lisa has shared with him the truth of your paternity. I have not.”

Dean nodded. “Got it. You _were_ able to keep from micromanaging _some_ things, then.”

Cas bit his lip and nodded.

Dean took a deep breath. “All right. Well. I am just racking up the kids here, aren’t I?”

“You’ll be such a good father, Dean. You already are.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been a great father to Ben. Pfft. Didn’t know he existed until his eighth birthday, didn’t hang around long then, once Lisa denied he was mine. When I was with them, I made them miserable, and put them in danger. Then I had you erase their memories of me, which I thought was permanent, and I never once thought that it might not have worked. I’ve essentially ignored him for years, in the name of his safety. Yeah, I’m a great dad. Right. And with Deanna, again, didn’t know she existed until she was four and a half, and then I couldn’t even go and pick her up from her aunt’s myself, I had to send Jody and Claire, because I’m on the FBI’s most wanted list. Hoo, I’m really a spectacular father.”

“Stop that, Dean. You can’t help that neither Lisa nor Anne Marie decided to share with you the fact that you had offspring with them. You found out when you found out, and you only just now found out that Ben really  _ is _ your son. And he has been safe, Dean; I’ve made sure of that because you couldn’t. And you know that to be true - you really couldn’t. And with Deanna, the second you found out about her, she became your priority. You sent Jody to get her for you, and bring her home to you, to us. And you’ve been so good to her, and for her, already. You  _ are  _ a good father, Dean. You  _ are _ . And if you asked them, I’m willing to bet both Ben and Deanna would say the same.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! One thing about the last chapter first, before I get into this one. I realized why I'd been fighting with it, and I made a small but significant change. If you re-read Ch. 233 now, you'll see that there's a particular word missing: mutation. I didn't want there to be a genetic mutation, it wasn't a change or a new development, it was a potential realized, a potential that all humans share, but few achieve. Sam and Dean have achieved it, but not through mutation. So I fixed that, and you might want to read the chapter again to see how that plays, now. I'm sorry for the delay in getting this new chapter out, but I was going over and over in my head why 233 didn't sit right, and until I had fixed that, 234 just wasn't happening. ;)
> 
> Okay, on to THIS chapter....  
> Donna's heading to the Bunker to help with Deanna and the wedding planning. Looks like Doug's not quite done being a moron, though. Ut oh!  
> Jody's heading home because she was to get to work, but also because it's not fair to either Alex or Amy to make Alex responsible for Amy by herself for too long. Claire's staying at the Bunker a while, though, for more quality time with not-Dad Cas, and soon to be not-stepdad Dean. ;)  
> So, Cas had some 'splainin' to do. It's always been a mystery to me how the show's writers could think that erasing Lisa and Ben's memories would have worked, unless Cas did a heck of a lot more than *just* that. Answer: it wasn't possible, and so Cas just took care of it. Dean made some real progress there, eh? He let his temper flare, but he also got it under control, he didn't lash out too much, and he chose love. That's so so far removed from what he would have done at the end of S15E3, where we started this story, isn't it? ;)
> 
> No art, as this ran a bit long. 
> 
> Please comment! Let me know what you think! I want to hear from you. :D


	235. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire discovers that Jody left without her. Deanna decides to go to bed early and comes to find Dean to say good night; they have a chat.

“Wait. So, I take a nap, and Jodes just takes off without me?” To Dean’s surprise, Claire was indignant at having been left behind.

“She thought you’d want to spend more time with Cas, help with wedding planning, maybe take advantage of our firing range. Donna’ll be here tomorrow. Look, Cas can fly you home whenever you want. Or, you can wait here until the next time we both head up to Sioux Falls, and we’ll drive you there with us. Jody said it should only be another week or two before the feds are no longer an issue.”

Claire sighed. “Yeah, okay. I would like to spend more time with Cas - and you, and Sam, and Deanna - it’s just….” She trailed off, looking a little wistful.

“Just that you would have liked to have been consulted?” Dean smiled softly.

“Yeah. Is that dumb?”

“Nope. C’mere.” Dean opened his arms, and Claire gave him a hug. “We’re better now, yes? I didn’t screw us up forever?”

“Course. I told you then, I wasn’t  _ that  _ upset, it was just an in-the-moment upset kind of thing, and by the morning, I was fine. You didn’t hurt me, Dean. We’re good.” 

“Okay. I’m glad.” 

“Besides, you’re marrying Cas. Which is so great. I’m so happy that the two of you finally got your heads out.”

“Claire!” 

Claire just laughed. “Well, they had appeared to be fairly well wedged in there for quite some time….”

Dean slugged her arm, gently. She just laughed again.

“So, I’m gonna be nosy. Did you talk to your therapist about your drinking?” Claire asked.

Dean nodded. “I’ve been sober and dry since that night, and the Bunker has no alcohol - Sam cleared it all out, and if he feels like having a beer, he goes out for it. And yes, I know that at some point I’ll have to be around alcohol and people drinking again, but for the time being, with everything else going on, it’s easier to resist temptation by just not having it present. I’ve talked with Mia about it, and she said that as long as I was aware that it might make resisting temptation harder when it does come back up again, she’s okay with me basically living in an alcohol-free environment to avoid trouble, for now. And yes, I told her about the ‘random chicks in bars’ thing, as you asked me to do.”

“Okay. Good. As long as you’re taking care of it properly, with input from your therapist, I’m satisfied you’ll be all right. You see all right. Are you? Really?” Claire squinted at him.

Dean laughed. “Yeah. With the not drinking thing, completely fine. With the rest of everything? Most of the time, yeah. I’m good.”

“And would you tell me if you weren’t?” Claire teased.

“Probably not, brat.” Dean grinned. “But I promise you, I’m good, right here, right now. Had a small tiff with Cas earlier, but we talked it through, and we’re okay. I’ve got a daughter, I’ve got friends, I’m good.”

“Dean… should you be…  _ glowing _ ?” Claire asked.

“Oh! Sorry.” Dean concentrated and tamped it down.

“What  _ was  _ that _? _ ” 

“Um. Apparently, I have a light in my soul - everyone does, actually, but mine, well, glows, usually when I’m happy. We don’t know why. Cas is looking into it.” Dean ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s.... That’s kind of cool, actually.” Claire smiled slowly, considering the idea. “Hey, I’m hungry. Is there any pizza left?”

“No, but it is almost dinner time. You think the troops can stand another pizza night? I am not feeling like cooking at the moment, but yeah, I’m hungry, too.”

“I know I like pizza, whenever,” Claire shrugged. “If the others don’t like it, they can fend. They have reasonable life skills, right?”

Dean sputtered into laughter as he thought of the angels - who swore they didn’t eat and that everything just tasted like molecules, yet would tear into pizza and baked goods (and drink gallons of coffee) with the rest of them - having to “fend.” “Well, Gabriel does. I’m not really sure about Balth and Hannah.”

Claire grinned. “Well, if they claim they don’t eat, put’em to the test.”

***

Dinner ended up being Chinese food from a little place that Shann recommended, and everyone, angels included, agreed the food was great, so that was another restaurant added to Dean’s list of approved caterers for feeding the horde currently staying in the Bunker. After he’d finished eating, and made sure that someone - Jack and Gabe - was on clean-up detail, Dean headed off to his and Cas’ room to write a journal entry. Cas watched him leave the War Room, and, on the assumption that he’d need some space for a bit, asked Sam for a research assignment to keep him busy for a while.

Dean sat down at his desk, flipped open his notebook, and uncapped his pen. Just as he was about to start writing, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

The door pushed open slowly, and Deanna stuck her head in. “Hey, Daddy.”

“Hey, baby, c’mere.” Dean turned his chair toward his daughter, and opened his arms, and Deanna ran straight into them. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I’m getting tired, so I’m going to bed. I just wanted to say good night,” Deanna announced.

“It’s a little early for sleeping already, isn’t it?” Dean asked.

“Yes, but it’s been a long week, and a busy day, and I’m really full - dinner was great - and now I’m tired. So, best to sleep, right?” Deanna grinned.

“If you want to sleep, go sleep, baby. Sleep is good for you. Do you want me to come and tuck you in?”

“No. I just wanted to say good night, and to tell you one other thing.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“I love you, Daddy.” Deanna kept her face down, but her eyes nervously glanced upward at him as she said it.

“Oh, baby. I love you, too. With all my heart.” Dean pulled her in for another hug, then kissed her cheek gently.

“How can you be sure, Daddy? You didn’t even know I existed a week ago. Now you love me with all your heart?” Deanna couldn’t just let it go. She had to be  _ sure _ .

“I do. That’s just how it works, baby. Can I tell you a story?”

“Sure, Daddy.”

Dean settled Deanna in his lap more comfortably. “A long time ago, I met a woman named Lydia. She was very beautiful, but what I didn’t know was that she was a demi-God.”

Deanna giggled. “Really?”

Dean nodded solemnly. “Really and truly. She was an Amazon.”

“Oh, like Wonder Woman?” Deanna asked.

“Sort of. The cartoon mythology is a little different from the real life story about Amazons. Anyway, Amazons are real, they’re demi-Gods, and Lydia was one. But I didn’t know that when we first met. I just thought she was beautiful. And she and I did what adults do to make a baby, and we had a daughter.”

“Daddy, I’ve read a  _ lot _ . I know all about sex. Mommy didn’t think it was anything to hide or be ashamed of, and she thought it was better that I know things that are important like that.”

Dean blushed to the roots of his hair, but nodded. “Okay. That’s...um… good, and I, um, agree with your mother. Anyway. Because Lydia was an Amazon, our daughter, Emma, was born overnight, and grew up to the equivalent of the age of 16 within just a few days. I didn’t know anything about her, until she suddenly showed up at my hotel room door one afternoon. Turns out, Amazon girls go through a very odd training process to serve their goddess, and at the end of it, their final exam is to kill their father.”

“So, Emma failed her final exam, then? Because here you still are.”

“Yeah, kind of. She didn’t want to take her final exam. She’d realized she was being brainwashed, didn’t like where it was going, and resisted the training. She asked me to take her away, to hide her. Said I was the only person who could help, because I was her father, and she wanted to know if I could love her. What she didn’t realize was, I already did.”

“So, what happened? Why isn’t she here?”

“Well, she’d left the door to the hall open a little, and she had a knife. I did, too, and I had just set mine down, trying to get her to set hers down as well, and I think she was just about to. But then someone in the hall saw her gesture with the knife, thought she was threatening me, and they shot her. She died. It was just a misunderstanding; if they’d shown up just two minutes later, her knife would have been down, and any threat to me would have been neutralized. So, she’s gone, but I still love her just the same. I only knew her for about ten minutes, tops, but I think about her every day. Now, you, I’ve known for a couple of days now. Much more than ten minutes. How much more, then, do you think I think about  _ you _ ?” Dean tickled her sides, and Deanna giggled.

“Do you have any other kids I should know about, Daddy?” Deanna asked, teasingly.

“I do, actually. I have a son, Ben.”

“Where’s he, then?”

“With his mother, Lisa. For a long time, I, and your Uncle Sam, were monster hunters. It’s dangerous, and being in that life can bring danger down on the ones you love. Lisa and Ben were kidnapped by demons because of me, and Lisa was possessed by one; she nearly died, but I got them out, and Cas healed her. I couldn’t stand having them be in danger because of me, so I left them to keep them safe. But I think about Ben every day, too.”

“Are you still a monster hunter now, Daddy?”

“Well, sweet pea, yes and no. It’s been a couple of weeks since we last worked a case, and, in that time, I found out that I inherited an auto salvage business up in South Dakota. Sam and I have talked about it a little, and I’m starting to think that being a hunter might be something it’s time for me to stop. That I should go full-time into auto salvage and restoration, and maybe do some side research for hunters now and then, instead of continuing to hunt myself. Maybe help train a few new hunters, rather than being out on the road. That way, I stay safe,  _ you _ stay safe, and maybe I can reconnect with Ben. What do you think of that plan, baby?”

“I like it, Daddy.” Deanna reached up to gently stroke his cheek. “I think you should be safe, and have the people you love, who love you back, around you all the time.”

“Okay. I think Cas likes that idea, too. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Dean stood up, Deanna in his arms, and he swung her around so she was on his back, to give her a piggy-back ride. Deanna giggled, and gripped his hair, which made him wince a bit, but he said nothing, just bumped her up higher, and strode out into the hall and down and in to her room. 

He set her down on her bed, and smiled at her. “Do you need anything, baby?”

“Nope. I’m good. Good night, Daddy,” Deanna smiled back.

“Good night, sweet pea. Sweet dreams.” He left the room, and closed the door behind him. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a journal entry chapter, but Deanna insisted on going to bed. LOL
> 
> No art, as this ran a bit longer than usual.
> 
> Please comment! Are you still out there? Be ye alive? Let me know! ;)


	236. Never Go To Bed Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean writes in his journal. Dean and Cas have a chat.

Dean headed back to the bedroom and his journal, smiling softly. He went in, sat down, picked up his pen, and stared at the blank page a moment. 

And then he started to write.

***

**_Saturday Evening_ **

_Just put Deanna to bed. She announced to me just after dinner that it had been a long week, a busy day, and she was full of a great dinner, and it was all making her tired, so she wanted to sleep. She’s so smart, Mia. She was going to put herself to bed, said she just wanted to say good night to me, and one more thing. And then she told me that she loves me. And I said that I love her, too, with all my heart, and she asked how I can be sure, when I haven’t even known that she existed for a full week yet. So, I told her about Emma. How I only knew my only other daughter for about ten minutes, but I still love her and think about her every day. And I told her about Ben (confirmed, he_ **_is_ ** _my son, more on that in a minute), and how I had to give him up to keep him safe, but I’ll always love him, and think about him every day, as well. And then I said “and you’ve been here almost a full 24 hours now, so how much more do you think I think about_ **_you_ ** _?” She giggled, and seemed to accept, then, that my love for her is real. We’re already so comfortable with each other._

_Now, on to the Ben thing. This morning, Deanna decided to investigate the Bunker on her own. We hadn’t set rules for her yet, nor told her that there were places in the Bunker where she ought not go, so she wasn’t being naughty, but I’m glad that we found her as quickly as we did. Cas could sense her, knew where she was, when she went downstairs, etc. And when I asked him how, he looked surprised, and said, “she’s yours.” I asked him about it late this afternoon, if it was like some kind of angelic DNA test, and he said “well, not exactly, but close enough, I suppose.”_

_So then, I had to know. He’d been around Ben; could he tell, was Ben my son? And when I asked, he said that yes, Ben was mine. So then I got a little weepy, thinking that I’d had him erase my son’s memories of me, and then Cas admitted that while he’d done what I had asked, what I had specifically mentioned hadn’t been enough. There were too many reminders of me, too many other people who knew about me, and so within a couple of weeks, they remembered me and were very confused. So Cas went to see Lisa, and explained the situation to her, how I felt that I had to be away from them to keep them safe. He gave her his cell phone number, and told her to call if there was ever even so much as a hint of supernatural danger. He assured me that she and Ben were fine, they understood, they weren’t in danger, and it appeared that my staying away from them had worked to keep the potential dangers away from them….with the caveat that they know all about me._

_That was not the understanding that I had had of what Cas had done, of what we had agreed that he would do. He lied to me, and he went behind my back to make arrangements for their safety that weren’t what I had asked him to do, and he kept it a secret from me for literally years. I felt betrayed, and angry, and I told him so._

_He said that he had dealt with a situation because he was the only one who could, under the circumstances, and that he had made sure that they understood that I did it because I cared about them, because he knew that I really did, and that he had done it, all of it, for me. He couldn’t see, initially, where he had misstepped. I had to explain to him why I was upset._

_I told him it was his_ **_unilateral_ ** _action, his having made a plan and executed it in_ **_secret_ ** _, without ever telling me there was a need, that angered me. That I felt like we had gotten past his rushing in to a situation to do what he thought best without conferring with others, especially me, and past the secrets and the lies. I felt like my foundation had shifted, and I didn’t know how to get past that._

_So then the poor guy thought I was breaking up with him. I wasn’t, and I said so. And Mia, as soon as we’d had the conversation, as soon as I’d told him how I felt… I didn’t feel nearly as angry as when it had first hit me. It felt like it just rolled off, and away. I could let it go. I had expressed my feelings, mostly calmly, and rationally, and explained them to him so that he understood where he’d gone wrong, and that was all I needed to do._

_Thinking about it now, it seems to me that he stepped in when he did, at a time when we weren’t together, we weren’t partners, and I suspect that if a similar situation occurred now, he’d handle it differently, because now he understands. With that in mind, how can I continue to be mad at the guy, when he was only trying to help, and, in fact,_ **_did_ ** _help? I can’t. I told him I could feel the anger draining out of me, even as we talked about it. He said he was proud of how far I’ve come with managing my anger issues, and thought you would be, as well, Mia. I agree, it’s progress._

_After we’d found Deanna this morning, we had breakfast, and then she broke my heart. She told me her mother would have punished her for stopping all the clocks, as a misuse of her powers, and she thought that I should punish her, now. She said that she’d known it was ‘naughty’ when she did it, but that her mother was in no shape to even notice, much less discipline her, at the time, and she was a little desperate to be able to spend more time with her, so she just did it anyway. I told her that I understood, that she’d just wanted to spend as much time as she could with her mother, and that I wasn’t going to ever punish her for that. We got past that, but then she insisted that I needed to set rules for her, because we both need to know when she’s misbehaving, and she needs to know that there will be consequences for when she does misbehave. I couldn’t believe how grown up she sounded. I know neither Sam nor I would ever have thought such a thing, growing up!_

_She told me that her mother’s #1 rule for her had been ‘don’t misuse your powers.’ She explained that she can read minds, but she actively tries not to...most of the time. Sometimes, she ‘snoops,’ and if she’d done that while her mother had been alive, Anne Marie would have smacked the back of her hand. She showed me her hand, and there was a bruise, and I was certain it was fresh, not something Anne Marie could have done weeks ago, before she died. So I asked Deanna if someone had been hurting her, and she said that she’d done it to herself, because she had snooped - on Gabriel. She hadn’t meant to, exactly, but she’d reached out with her powers and ‘heard’ more than she’d intended to, and knew that she was being naughty… so she punished herself, maybe a little harder than she’d meant to, and it left a bruise behind._

_I told her that I agreed with her mother that intentionally snooping on others’ thoughts is wrong. If someone is having a strong emotion and she picks it up unintentionally, because she can’t help it, that’s fine, that’s not her fault; but going looking and finding out something she’s not supposed to know, that’s a problem. But I’m not comfortable with smacking even the back of her hand. I don’t know if John ever really hit me, or if that’s just a false memory implanted by Alastair, but I know that I can’t ever hit my own child. So I suggested that we make a star chart, where she has chores to do, and for everything she does timely and well, she gets a star, and for every time she’s somehow ‘naughty,’ she loses a star, or more than one, depending on the severity of the offense. And at the end of the week, or the month, or whatever time period, we count up how many stars she’s earned and has left, and she gets some kind of treat for them. She suggested that system just sounded like bribing her to do well, and she told me that she knows she’s supposed to behave properly because it’s the right thing to do._

_So, I said back, “Well, but punishing you when you’re naughty has the same effect. It’s saying ‘I won’t punish you if you don’t misbehave.’ Isn’t that bribery, too?”_

_She replied,_ _“Well, yes, and no. I’d say punishing bad behavior teaches that actions have consequences.”_

_So, I pointed out that, “Well, and so do good actions - good actions have good consequences.”_

_We could both agree on that, so we grinned at each other, and went shopping. She needed more clothes, some toys, more books, and we needed the materials to make a star chart. I had to encourage her to get not just what she needed, but what she wanted, too. I don’t think she ever went hungry living with her mother, but I don’t think Anne Marie had a lot of cash lying around for extras, either. I figured I had four years to make up for, so indulging her - and myself - a little was okay (I suspect that her first Christmas in the Bunker will be a revelation for Deanna, because everyone here loves her already, and will want to contribute to making it good for her), so I played pack mule and carried the haul._

_We got back to the Bunker to find there was a research party, all hands on deck situation. Rowena took Deanna off to the kitchen to get something to eat while Sam and Cas brought me up to speed. Apparently, after Chuck-the-prophet was abandoned by Light (God), who had been using him as a vessel without permission for the past ten years, he went back into “prophet mode” and typed out a long piece that he calls ‘Origin Story,’ that talks about events on another planet somewhere back in the mists of time,_ **_before Light and Darkness_ ** _(God’s sister)_ **_were born_ ** _. And, it turns out, when Shann accidentally briefly stepped into an alternate universe through an invisible rift in the Bunker’s hallway (before Cas and Lucifer and Balthazar could fix those), he found a text similar to, and by the same author as, the one he’d been translating from Spanish for Sam, but it had significant differences, and one of them was kind of an epilogue by the author about an odd recurring dream he’d had. The epilogue was nearly identical, not necessarily in words, but in its ideas and content, to Chuck’s ‘Origin Story,’ which makes us think that it could be true, and that perhaps the “immortal and invincible” beings described in the story could still be around._

_By “immortal and invincible” what I mean is that not only are these beings who don’t die natural deaths over time due to the aging process, they also cannot be killed. Literally, one of them tried, in ‘Origin Story,’ to blow up that other planet, succeeded, got blown apart and out into space - yet didn’t die, eventually reforming, and even giving birth to twins with which she’d been pregnant prior to the explosion._

_We’re still working on figuring it all out, but Gabe suspects that the female being who blew up their planet, Delilah, and her mate, Malachai, are here, now, and that Malachai is the entity formerly known as “The Cosmic Entity” who was ruling over The Empty - the place where angels and demons go when they die, the entity that Cas annoyed so much that he got sent back, and who brought all the angels loyal to Cas back to help Cas fight Light (so the Entity wouldn’t have to) - and also is the entity who was terrorizing Rowena, in Hell. He mentioned to her, right before she came to the Bunker, that his mate was “finally awakening,” and apparently Delilah waking caused the earthquake that rocked the entire planet without explanation the other day. Malachai left the throne room to try to find Delilah, and that’s when Rowena left Hell to come to us, hoping the Bunker’s warding could keep them out and away from her. Frankly, I’m not sure it can. I don’t know how to ward against Gods, and I don’t think anyone ever tried to ward the Bunker to that extent._

_Jody had to get on the road and back to Sioux Falls; she has to be at work tomorrow, and she can’t leave Alex alone with Amy for too long. Alex has work, too, and Amy has some special needs, and Jody just needs to be there. But she left Claire with us, saying she thought Claire should maybe spend some time with Cas before the wedding, and she could help with the planning, and use our firing range to practice, etc., and Cas can either fly her back up when she wants to get home, or, Jody suggested that within a week or two the feds should be gone, and I should be able to fly under their radar again and come up to inspect the Salvage Yard and get things moving there._

_I spoke with Deanna about that, too. I told her that I don’t think I want to continue to be a hunter, that while I might do research or train new hunters, I want my new primary focus to be on auto salvage and restoration. I want her to be safe, and I don’t want to feel like I have to hide her away from the world, or send her away from me, to achieve that. She thought it would be a good idea to let me be around those I love. That made my heart melt a little, gotta say. She’s such a sweetheart._

_After I got Jody on the road, I found Cas, and that’s when we had the discussion about Ben that I described above. At the end of our talk, Cas said something that I find hard to believe, both because of my lack of role models, and because I know what a fuck-up I can be, in general. He said, “You’ll be such a good father, Dean. You already are.”_

_I replied, “Yeah, I’ve been a great father to Ben. Pfft. Didn’t know he existed until his eighth birthday, didn’t hang around long then, once Lisa denied he was mine. When I was with them, I made them miserable, and put them in danger. Then I had you erase their memories of me, which I thought was permanent, and I never once thought that it might not have worked. I’ve essentially ignored him for years, in the name of his safety. Yeah, I’m a great dad. Right. And with Deanna, again, didn’t know she existed until she was four and a half, and then I couldn’t even go and pick her up from her aunt’s myself, I had to send Jody and Claire, because I’m on the FBI’s most wanted list. Hoo, I’m really a spectacular father.”_

_But then he told me to “Stop that, Dean. You can’t help that neither Lisa nor Anne Marie decided to share with you the fact that you had offspring with them. You found out when you found out, and you only just now found out that Ben really is your son. And he has been safe, Dean; I’ve made sure of that because you couldn’t. And you know that to be true - you really couldn’t. And with Deanna, the second you found out about her, she became your priority. You sent Jody to get her for you, and bring her home to you, to us. And you’ve been so good to her, and for her, already. You are a good father, Dean. You_ **_are_ ** _. And if you asked them, I’m willing to bet both Ben and Deanna would say the same.”_

_Now, I’ll grant you, **Deanna** might think I’m a good father. She has no basis for comparison, and she hasn’t known me very long. Whether she’ll feel the same way when she’s 18 is another matter. _

_But **Ben**? Ben’s 17, in his senior year of high school. And in all that time, I was around for maybe 2 years, total, tops. At **best** , I’m an absentee father who doesn’t even pay child support, who tried to have his memories of me erased. And now, I’m wondering. If I do make these changes in my life, retire from hunting, get into auto salvage and restoration full time, should I contact Ben? Could it be possible to have him back in my life? He knows that I exist; Cas says he didn’t tell Ben of my paternity, and doesn’t know if Lisa ever admitted it. It’s likely he still doesn’t know that I’m actually his father. It’s much more likely that Ben thinks of me, if he thinks of me at all, as his mother’s fucked-up former boyfriend who abandoned them because Lisa ended up in the hospital because of me. It's not like he's trying to contact **me**. _

_This isn’t just my general insecurity and self-loathing talking, Mia. I may have irreparably damaged Ben, or at least my relationship with him. I honestly don’t know what I could have done differently. I had to keep Lisa and Ben safe. But I miss them. Lisa wasn’t perfect, but she tried. Even when we started to fall apart as a couple, she was still a good friend, for a while, anyway. And Ben is mine, my son, and I swear, I’ve always known that deep down. From the first time I met him at his eighth birthday party, the kid was practically a mini-me. I’m scared, Mia. I so badly want him back in my life, but I am so afraid that if I contact him, I’ll find out that he hates me and wants nothing to do with me, and I don’t think I could take that._

_It’s getting late, and I need sleep. I’ll have to let this angst go for the moment to get any. I sense a very long session coming up on Tuesday. Lots to cover this week!_

_***_

Just as Dean was closing the notebook and recapping his pen, Cas stepped into the room.

“Hey, Angel.”

“Is it okay for me to be here, Dean? Or are you still too mad? I don’t want to intrude.” Cas looked a little worried, and Dean couldn’t stand it.

“Cas, this is your room, too. I’m not kicking you out. I told you, I’m not breaking up with you, I’m choosing to love you through the mad. And honestly, after writing about it, I don’t think I’m even mad anymore. It’s not like you took charge of the situation yesterday, it happened a long time ago. You were still keeping it from me, but that may have just been from a lack of opportunity to think about telling me. We have had an awful lot going on here lately. So yeah, I’ve cooled off a lot from earlier. I appreciate you giving me some time to think, and journal, and some space, but I don’t need space now.

"In fact, I think what I actually need now, come to think of it, is snuggling.” Dean grinned.

Cas grinned back. “I can do that.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MUCH. PROGRESS.  
> I think Dean's fears about Ben are actually justifiable. Two years out of seventeen isn't exactly a great track record. But Ben did love Dean, once, and Dean was the closest thing he'd ever had to a dad, even though neither of them knew Dean actually *was* his father. The only way to find out if the relationship is irreparable is to make contact, and find out. But should he risk hurting himself, and possibly Ben, again?
> 
> No art, as this ran long again. Sorry/not sorry, you got more of a story, instead. ;)
> 
> Please comment!!! And please also remember to keep up with Dean in Hell, Sam's Therapy, and Two Nuns Talking - my other stories, which I also need to update soon! ;) Have a great Friday, all!


	237. Everyone's Pushing Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a late-night chat with Rowena and Shann/Lucifer in the Bunker kitchen over cookies and coffee about a possible future he doesn't want to accept.

Sam was reading in the library. The earlier crowd had thinned out, he noticed, as he glanced up from his book. He looked at his watch, and … 

_ Oh. It’s 2:00 a.m. No wonder the crowd’s thinner.  Almost everyone else is likely in bed by now.  _

He rose and stretched, then picked up his coffee mug and headed toward the kitchen for another refill. 

_ I like the early early morning hours. It’s quiet. Good reading time. _

As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw that he was not, in fact, alone; Rowena was seated at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of tea and taking a bite of a cookie from time to time, as she read a magazine.

She looked up. “Samuel.”

“Ro.” Sam ducked his head, and gave her a shy smile, then headed to the coffee maker. He poured what was left in the dregs of the last pot into his mug, but it didn’t even fill it one-quarter full.

“Ach, laddie, don’t drink that, it’s got to be near to tar by now. Let me make you a fresh pot.” Rowena rose and bustled over to the counter, deftly moving Sam aside over his half-hearted protests. “Go, sit. Gabriel baked some lovely cookies earlier, I’ll bring you a plate of them to nibble while you wait.”

Sam gave up and went to sit down, feeling an odd sense of having had his own home commandeered out from under him.

Rowena rinsed out the coffee pot, then filled it, and fiddled with the coffee maker. “You boys really ought to invest in an industrial-sized coffee maker, with as many people as you have in this place at any given point in time.”

“We’ve, ah, considered it. It’s a plumbing issue.” Sam told her.

“Ah. Well, you’d know best about that, I suppose. It is your place, after all. And I want to thank you again, Samuel, for letting me come here when I had to flee Hell.”

“Not a problem, Red.” Sam mumbled.

Rowena brought over the promised plate of cookies. “Here, darlin’. Eat your biscuits, there’s a good lad.” 

She studied Sam from beneath her long lashes for a moment. “You really ought to be on the throne, y’know, laddie. Not me.”

Sam sighed. “Ro, just… no.”

“Are you afraid that I’m angry wi’ you, Samuel?” She smiled softly at him.

“I _did_ kill you,” he reminded her.

“Because I _demanded_ it of you, and had you no, we’d both be in much worse shape now, wouldn’t we? Instead, here we are, the Queen of Hell, and her imminent replacement King, who is still alive and kicking, I’m pleased to say.”

“I’m not going to replace you,” Sam started, but Rowena held up a hand.

“Oh, aye, Sam, _y’are_. I’ve seen it. And so have at least a dozen other fore-seers. You _will_ take the throne, laddie. And you’ll be so  _ good _ at ruling, Sam. Much better than I, or Crowley, much less Lucifer, ever were. You’re a  _ leader _ , you know the answer, or how to find it. People respect you, look up to you, and not just for your towering height. Sam. You are absolutely the best choice, and you have absolutely the best claim.”

“But I don’t _want_ it, Red.”

“Och, I know that well enow, boy-o. But sometimes in this life we’re called to do things we don’t want to have to do. And sometimes those are the things that break us, but more often, they’re the experiences that  _ make _ us. Samuel, Hell does not have to be what it is. What it is is what Lucifer made it, what the Ruling Committee made it, what Fergus made it, and what I’ve left it as, but it does not have to be that. You could remake it. You have the ability to lead Hell into a new future.”

“I don’t know what that means, Rowena.”

“Well, of course you don’t. You need to think on it. You need to decide what you want Hell to be, Samuel. Lucifer had it set up to be a demon factory, constantly bringing in new souls and breaking them down into smoked-out remnants that had to go up to possess humans in order to bring in new souls, over, and over, and over,  _ ad nauseum.  _ He wanted creatures that would worship him, but for the most part, most of the demons never did any such thing. They just went about the roles they were told to assume by the demons that made them, made new demons, and got themselves killed, hardly ever having given Lucifer a thought. Fergus made it more of a torture chamber, with less physical torture and more... _ waiting _ . A torment of a never-ending bureaucracy that existed only to send you back to the end of the line to wait some more. Clever, as a holding pattern, but ultimately boring, and Fergus was so bored for so long before he finally gave up his life to save the two of you.”

“I’m sorry about that, Rowena, I didn’t know he had that planned, or I would have tried to stop him.”

“Ach, laddie, it was better that he went. He wasn’t cut out to rule, it bored him silly and he suffered from it. Better he move on and have it over with. And that Asmodeus, he was only interested in a few petty tyrannies, like torturing your poor Gabriel, and having his revenge on Lucifer. In part, that was one reason why he was so interested in keeping Gabriel on a leash; he knew that of all his brothers, Lucifer loved Gabriel the most, even after the fall.”

“That’s true,” came a voice from the doorway. Sam and Rowena looked over and found Shann lounging against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, one ankle kicked over the other leg. “Lucifer did love Gabriel the most of all his brothers. Still does, he says.” Shann grinned. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just coming for a cup of coffee, and heard voices. I stayed so late, after being here all day, that Gabe told me to just stay over and make myself at home.”

“Yeah, man, c’mon in,” Sam told him, rising to see if there was enough in the pot to pour out a couple of mugs yet. Finding that there was, he poured one for himself and refilled Shann’s mug for him. Shann doctored his with flavorred creamer from the refrigerator, while Sam sipped his black. “Cookie, Shann? Gabriel’s been baking, as usual. He’s playing with new recipes.”

“Oh, yeah, for the bakery. Yeah, he told me,” Shann replied, coming over to sit across from Rowena, next to Sam. Shann grabbed a cookie and bit into it, moaning softly at the texture and flavor of it. “Yeah, he’s got this recipe down, you can tell him, it’s perfect.”

Sam chuckled as he returned to his seat, then grew serious again. “Ro. I don’t want to rule Hell, as it is. I don’t want to change Hell into something new. I want nothing to do with Hell, at all.”

Shann’s face gave a little twist, and suddenly Lucifer was looking out at them. “You ought to, though, Sam. I can’t do it, I’ve proven unworthy, and you’d be so good at it. You really would. I know you, Sam. I’ve  _ been  _ you. You could really make something useful down there.”

The funny little twist reversed, and Shann was back. “Sorry, he asked if he could just have a second, and I could tell what he wanted to do, so I let him come up for a minute. Didn’t mean to upset you, Sam.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t get what you all think I could change Hell into that would be worth it. I  _ like  _ my life. I don’t want to run a prison, a torture dungeon, or a demon factory, much less a never-ending DMV.”

“Samuel, you could make it into a rehabilitation center. Instead of creating demons, souls could get better and be reincarnated. You’re much too focused on the Judeo-Christian mythos. I bet if you talked with Castiel and Gabriel, you might be able to get some angels to help you with it, to start. Then other souls could take over, gradually, as they came in with relevant experience.”

“Yeah, man, clean house. It doesn’t have to be what it is. You could make it into something better,” Shann nodded at Sam.

“Samuel, at least speak with Gabriel and Castiel, and see what they say, eh? A man could do worse than being the King of Hell.” Rowena smiled as she rose from her seat. “I’m off to bed. Have a good night, boys.”

“Night, Ro,” Sam muttered.

Shann expansively waved his coffee mug, his mouth full of cookie. Rowena laughed, and left the room.

“So, clearly, Lucifer wants me to do this. What do  _ you _ think, Shann?” Sam asked.

“I think it could be a good thing, Sam. Lucifer has ideas, but after having been contaminated by the Mark and the Cage, he’s a little afraid of trying to be the one to implement them. Happy to tell you about them, if you asked, though; he’s good like that. He’d be a good administrator, he just can’t be top dog, he doesn’t have the confidence now. But if you wanted to start things out, and then delegate, he could handle the day-to-day stuff for you. By the way, he doesn’t know I’m saying that; he went to sleep almost immediately after having his say, and he’s down for the night, now. But you know how this works, Sam; he can’t lie to me, mind-to-mind as we are, and I know what he thinks and what he wants. He doesn’t want to be in charge, you wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to depose you. But he could be trusted with some authority in specific areas, and you could get things rolling, then come back up to live your life most of the time. You don’t have to live in Hell to rule it, you could commute.”

“Heh. Billie said that to me, once,” Sam recalled.

“Well, Billie’s pretty smart.” Shann smiled softly, thinking of the reaper-now-Death that, were it not for Lucifer sharing his body, he’d likely be dating by now. “I just think you should consider it. A lot of entities want you to do this, Sam, and I could see you being really good at it. Okay, that’s my say, and I’m heading back to my room to finish the chapter I’m working on, and then sleep. G’night, Sam.”

Sam nodded, a little stiffly, thinking hard. “Night, Shann.”

Shann rose and left the kitchen, and Sam was alone with his thoughts. He glanced at his watch again.

_ Eep, it’s after 3:00 in the morning, and I have a call with Mia at 8:00 a.m. I should try to sleep, myself. _

He rose and stretched, and then headed for the room he shared with Gabriel.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas for what Sam could do to reshape Hell into something "useful down there," to use Lucifer's phrase? ;)
> 
> No art, as this was running long again! 
> 
> Please comment!! Comments are life!! And I want to know who's reading!! ;)


End file.
